


The Desert

by PenelopeLane



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kendall’s gray knit hoodie is basically a character, No one is ok, Power Imbalance, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeLane/pseuds/PenelopeLane
Summary: Set about three years before season 1. A background piece. Kendall's ended rehab and Jess picks him up. They spend some time in the desert and I don't know--things change.. for the better? Or maybe not? One of my most favorite things about Succession is the cringe factor. There's some cringe factor in this fic. And if you like sad!Kendall, well, dammit, you've come to the right place.Look out for the hoodie that Kendall wears when he's **alone** at the end of "I Went to Market."
Relationships: Jess Jordan/Kendall Roy
Comments: 56
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: At the end of the first season on Succession Logan tells Kendall to "go to the desert" to "dry out." I took this as Logan referring to an earlier time when Kendall was in rehab. Upon rewatching the show, I observed a very keen bond Jess had with Kendall without much dialogue. She says so much with her eyes. I wanted to dive into that bond. What shaped it?

Jess jabbed her thumbs furiously on the screen of her phone as hunger pangs reminded her of the smoothie she’d left on her desk. Six hours ago.  
It had been her own fault. She hadn’t grabbed anything on her way to Teterboro. The jet had its usual Royco provisions, but at the time she hadn’t been hungry. Her stomach had been turning all morning.  
The flight hit turbulence over the Rockies. Jess had anticipated this; this was normal. It would mean they would land at Van Nuys in another two hours or so. Once she landed in Van Nuys, she’d have a car waiting to bring her to Malibu.  
She didn’t know she’d be his contact. She didn’t know—until that morning—that she’d be the one to fetch him. She didn’t know that his family had not responded when he had reached out. She only got the call from on high that she was to clear her schedule for the day and have her go bag at the ready: a change of clothes, toiletries, pajamas, and her laptop. Every other assistant that had worked under Kendall had either been fired or had quit before he’d entered rehab. She, somehow, had been reassigned elsewhere.  
But now, sitting in the leather-clad jet, Jess had been pulled back in. She gripped the armrests as they hit an air pocket and then closed her eyes. They opened again as the landing gear touched down on the runway. The ride to Malibu was thankfully bearable, but the emails and news alerts hadn’t stopped. Of course, the competing tabloids would get wind of this, and her job would be to ensure the most private route to the most private location in Los Angeles county. She had settled on a cool minimalist residence on the Pacific Palisades. The perfect place for him to decompress and get ready to return to New York.  
There was only a small pause at the front gate, but then the SUV whisked her right up to the entrance. She had expected him to be waiting; though she didn’t actually know what to expect. She had never picked anyone up from rehab before.  
When Jess realized he wasn’t just coming out to the car, she swung the door open with one hand while emailing Karolina with another and sprinted inside; there would need to be a statement given as the media onslaught was already beginning. Pierce would have a field day with this. She entered, distracted by a new email regarding a particularly nasty rumor that had just popped up: Kendall Roy apparently had a relapse.  
A relapse? Already? The man hadn’t even been checked out yet. Passing those waiting in the lobby, Jess approached the front desk and asked for Kendall.  
“Mr. Roy?” The attendant called to a hunched figure that sat in the waiting area—someone Jess had flown past without a thought.  
She whipped around, momentarily embarrassed for not recognizing her employer.  
“Hey.” Kendall had gotten up and, with a small duffel bag swung across his shoulder, walked up to the desk. He met eyes with her only briefly. “Thanks for…coming.”  
“Are you ready?” Jess cleared her throat uncomfortably; maybe a straightforward hello would have been better. Gone were the tailored suits and the large headphones. He stood before her in jeans and a hoodie. The circles under his eyes were dark and cavernous. The level of unabashed sadness he exuded in front of her made her shudder.  
“Yes,” the attendant cut in with a clipboard, “he is. Sign here, please.”  
Jess grasped the pen and scribbled quickly. She was realizing that she had been the one to release him. Up until that point, the most intimate thing she had known about him was his coffee order. The details of a follow up dentist appointment. He wrote for the Lampoon in college. The only concrete facts she knew about him were things he allowed her to know; but she had started to become good at picking up facts in other ways—mainly through merely observing him. His downward spiral and rehab had put that into overdrive. She had been the one to find him.  
“Can I get that for you?” She indicated the bag as her phone pinged.  
“No…” he answered softly, “I got it.”  
“All right,” she nodded, “let’s go.”  
Jess trotted back to the car as her heart raced—what was the protocol for this? She had no idea. She glanced at her phone again. Just another email from Karolina—no check ins from the Roys. None of them.  
As he watched his assistant climb back into the SUV, Kendall exhaled and tried to ignore her familiar scent as it washed over him as she brushed past. That warm, comforting rush—he welcomed it after two months of patchouli and sandalwood and whatever the fuck else they had been burning at the “resort.”  
“Back home, then?” Kendall muttered as he tossed his bag into the trunk behind him.  
“Uh…no…” Jess quickly glanced at him before deciding not to make full eye contact, “I’ve been told to set up a place—”  
“Where?”  
“Pacific Palisades,” she responded, ready with a visual, but he held up his hand before she could pull it up on her phone.  
“No. I need a change of scenery.”  
“Where?”  
“I don’t know—” he cut himself off as he thought.  
The fucking moon, maybe.  
“—The desert.”  
“The…desert…” She repeated as she mentally ran down the list of cancellations she would have to make within the next ten minutes.  
“Yeah. Joshua Tree or something. Not more cliffs.”  
“Certainly.”  
Kendall tried to exhale steadily to quell the shaking inside of him; her obedient, quick response made his adrenaline surge after two months of doing nothing but following directions.  
They sat in relative silence for the next three hours of the trip. The Los Angeles traffic delivered in spades, and Jess trained her eyes on her phone.  
“All right. Everything set.” She declared in a low voice as they finally pulled onto the 10.  
“Meals all—”  
“Done, yes. Chef is en route now.”  
“Pool--?”  
“Yes. I couldn’t find Olympic—”  
“Mmm. And amenities? Gated?”  
“It’s…remote. No gate. It’s last minute so—”  
“—Fine, fine.” He said. “It’s remote you said—but we’re plugged in for conferences?”  
“It will be.” She lied.  
“Perfect. Thank you.” Kendall relaxed and leaned back, and watched the urban sprawl give way to bare mountains. 

**

It was just past six o’clock when they arrived at the house. A small midcentury bungalow, the house was lit up in an orange glow, waiting for them. The chef could be seen through the kitchen window putting the finishing touches on what would be a whole food, pescatarian meal. Insisting on carrying his own bag, Kendall trudged into the house with Jess at his heels. She felt weirdly light not carrying anything for him. Jess nodded a greeting to the chef, who was plating the meal, and went to the refrigerator for sparkling water. Three kinds, as she had instructed. Aqua Panna with a twist of lemon would surely be his preference at this time of day. She prepared it swiftly and delivered it to Kendall, who was out on the deck surveying the sun dipping into the horizon.  
“Thanks.” He muttered, “And my phone?”  
“I was told—”  
“Just—I just need my phone.”  
“I know, but—”  
“Jess, come on.” Kendall let a weak smile flit across his lips.  
“They told me no.” She shook her head slightly. She followed his gaze as he took a swallow of water and turned back to the sky.  
“I’m sorry.” She whispered before going back inside.  
Kendall sat with his fizzy water as the sun disappeared into purple darkness. He heard Jess say goodbye to the chef. He heard the clinking of utensils against a plate. He felt her behind him. That familiar scent threatened to envelope him.  
“Do you want me to—”  
“Yeah, outside is fine.”  
He heard the plate hit the table behind him. Kendall kept his eyes ahead as he felt her pause for instructions. Always anticipating him; it made him deliciously weak. She waited a bit and moved to go back inside.  
“Hey, Jess,” Kendall called over his shoulder, “you want…to join me?”  
“Oh—I—”  
He heard her put her bags down. The stars had started to come out.  
“Hey, you’ve got to be hungry.”  
“A car is coming for me,” she said, “I’m going back to LA. Your recovery coach is on his way—”  
“No…no.” Kendall jumped from the lounge chair, “You don’t need to bring him here. I’m good.”  
“But they said—”  
“No, I can handle myself. I can handle it.”  
Jess stared at him as she clutched her phone to her chest.  
“Cancel him. He’s coming here? Cancel it.”  
Jess did not take her eyes from his as a way to plead with him, but Kendall held firm. She nodded uncertainly and looked up the phone number to make the call.  
Kendall sat down to dinner and called back into the house, “Come on, Jess. Join me.”  
He only started to eat when he was certain she was making herself a plate. She slipped into the seat next to him, and they ate in silence.  
Coyotes howled in the distance. Jess jolted slightly at the sound but recovered quickly. Her nerves had been high all day. She paused briefly before continuing her meal; she had been starving. Fifteen minutes went by before he spoke.  
“Compliments to the chef, then.” Kendall murmured.  
“You can give them to her when she returns for breakfast tomorrow.” Jess collected the plates and brought them into the kitchen, “she’ll be here at 7 A.M.”  
This time, instead of staring off into the distance, he followed her back into the house.  
“You’re headed back to LA?” He watched her put the dishes in the dishwasher.  
“Yeah,” she responded as she began to wipe down the kitchen island, “that was the plan. I would drop you off, wait for the coach, and head to The Freehand.”  
“Ooo. The Freehand.” Kendall said under his breath as he traced a vein in the marble counter. He paused for a moment, and then found a new vein. “Why don’t you just crash…here?”  
Kendall watched out of the corner of his eye as Jess paused in the cleaning of the counter. He watched as she weighed the possible outcomes of the answer to his question. She threw the dishtowel over the lip of the steel farmhouse sink.  
“I—I can’t—”  
“Come on… there’s more than enough room here—”  
“Kendall, I shouldn’t—”  
The doorbell. With a quick glance to her watch, Jess moved toward the door, “that’ll be the driver.”  
“No,” Kendall made a momentarily frantic move in front of her so that he blocked her way. “No, come on. You can stay.”  
She eased around him and opened the door. The driver cleared his throat and offered to carry her bag.  
“No, she’s not leaving.” Kendall cut in, going so far as to grab her bag before the driver could receive it.  
The driver looked at Jess, bewildered.  
“She’s not leaving,” Kendall repeated, and then, with a firm nod to the driver, “thank you. You may go.”  
Jess brought her full attention to Kendall. His eyes were watery. Red.  
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” she turned to the driver with a sigh, and produced several bills from her bag, pressing them into his hand, “I am staying.”  
With a thin-lipped nod, the driver turned and left. Jess closed the door and exhaled; the weight of responsibility for Kendall now burdened her—and it would have whether she had gone or not. She flipped the dead bolt and turned to him. He stood in the foyer of the tiny house, inches from her, holding her bag still. His eyes were redder, and they didn’t meet hers.  
“Hey.” She said softly.  
He looked toward the floor and didn’t respond.  
“Hey,” she said again, and stepped toward him, her hand daring to reach out to him. “You…OK?”  
“Yeah,” the word passed through his lips almost soundlessly. Tears started to pool on his lower lashes.  
She stepped closer. After a frozen moment, she took her bag from him and set it down. Jess stood squarely in front of him. She was wearing heels, and they were the same height. She tried to coax him into meeting her eyes, but he would not and instead trained his gaze on her collarbone.  
His family hadn’t reached out to her all day to check on him. She’d turned his phone on and kept a close watch on hers all day. Nothing.  
A wave of resolve hit her in that moment, and the barrier between them dissolved. She stepped even closer to him, inches away now, and placed her hands on his shoulders. Kendall squeezed his eyes shut and allowed a tear to escape down his cheek.  
“I’m…I’m glad you’re OK.” She whispered, and before she even finished her words, he threw himself against her shoulder; she could feel his warm breath through her blouse as he struggled to hold back a sob.  
Kendall slid his hand around her back and clung to her, there in the foyer. His other hand slid up her arm, and he gripped the silk of her top tightly in his fist. She was shocked for a moment; when she had taken the job just a year before she never would have remotely imagined she’d be where she was then. But Jess pushed past the shock, and she wrapped her arms around him in a firm embrace. Other duties as required? She set a mental reminder for herself to laugh at that later.  
For that second, he forgot who she was. She was now a person. A body. A warm, soft, body that he wanted to curl up against. For all of the spa treatments, the yoga, the therapy, the meditation of the past two months, being embraced was exponentially more powerful to him.  
“Thank you.” His voice was quiet and shaky, “thank you for staying.” He hugged her tighter.  
“Of course.” Was all she said.  
“I didn’t want—” he gulped his tears like a child, “I didn’t want you to—I didn’t want to be—"  
“It’s OK—it’s OK,” Jess pulled back and looked at him, her heart racing into something of a minor panic. Who could she sneak off and call for support? Karolina? Geri? She was coming up short.  
Kendall nodded quickly and sniffed, “yeah.”  
“How about you sit on the couch? Um…I can get you tea? What about a fire?”  
“That’s…nice. That’s really nice.” He ran his hand through his hair and tried his best to saunter casually over to the couch. There was a wood burning fireplace. It took about five minutes for Kendall to get it going at steady roar. By then, Jess presented him with a hot mug of oolong tea.  
“Thanks,” he said. She sat at safe distance on the opposite corner of the couch and sipped from her own mug.  
“The desert was a better choice,” she admitted, staring into the fire.  
“Heh.” Was all Kendall could muster. He felt stupid for saying it.  
“I’d never been here before. It’s beautiful.”  
“Yeah, I hadn’t either. Maybe that’s why I wanted to come.”  
Jess nodded in the silent pause between them.  
“Thanks again—for staying.”  
“Don’t mention it—”  
“I mean—”  
“It’s not a big deal—”  
“I mean, it is,” Kendall countered, “my family has you on the clock 24/7 and now they’ve tasked you to come and release me.”  
“It’s my job—”  
“It’s your job,” Kendall nodded, visibly stung, “right—”  
“Well, it’s not my job,” she knitted her brow, fumbling for words, “but I work for you.”  
“Ah, yes, you do.” He nodded again, reminded of how the people closest to him were the ones who were paid handsomely to do so.  
“I’m—sorry—did I--?” Jess held her hand against her heart.  
“No, you’re fine—” The flickering light of the fire before them only seemed to emphasize the lines in his face.  
She slid across the couch and laid her hand on his, which made him jolt in a small surprise.  
“I made the choice to stay.” Jess asserted. “You’re very convincing, but I was the one who made the choice.”  
She kept her hand on top of his, even going so far as to give a squeeze as something of an emphasis.  
“Yeah.” He responded, keeping his eyes on the curve of her knuckles. Something was missing. She followed his eyes to what he noticed: the absence of the yellow gold 3-carat east-west emerald-cut ring that had been on her finger two months ago. Jess pulled her hand back and tucked it into the crook of her opposite elbow. Kendall watched her as she took a sip of tea.  
He had never been one to notice something like that. But on the day that it appeared, glinting brilliantly alongside his cup of morning coffee that she always had greeted him with, it made some sort of imprint on him, like a part of her had been taken away from him. Now, that part was back. There they were, alone in the desert. No fucking ring in sight.  
Except, of course, for his.  
Jess finished her tea, stood from the couch and sighed, “I think I’m going to turn in.”  
This was weird. She felt nervous. But not in the usual Waystar Royco way. Not like when she had booked the wrong Ritz hotel room—Paris instead of London--on the second week of her job. This was different.  
She felt him staring at her. “I’m just really exhausted,” she exhaled and rubbed her forehead with her unringed finger.  
She rose from the couch, grabbed her bag and headed down the hall. Kendall’s heart leapt as he heard her come back from the bedroom.  
Maybe it was going to be the Ritz mix up.  
“What’s up?” He asked.  
“There’s…there’s only one bedroom.”


	2. 2

Kendall laughed in response to her words, but Jess’s mouth was a thin line. Kendall cleared his throat, “wait…what?”  
“I…I was planning on heading back to Los Angeles,” Was he watching her stammer? “And when I decided to stay here, I forgot that…I booked a place with one bedroom.”  
Kendall took a sip of tea and blinked, surveying the contents of the mug before him. Jess didn’t make many mistakes, but this one was reminiscent of that Ritz ordeal last year. Usually when subordinates made avoidable errors, Kendall would sometimes take the opportunity to rip into them, preferably in a public context, to demonstrate his dominance.  
But this mistake, now, didn’t make him angry.  
“You’ve been travelling all day,” he stood slowly, but did not advance to her. “You can take the room.”  
“What? No,” Jess was visibly mortified. She sputtered for a quick moment before regaining her words, “I—I couldn’t do that. No, I’ll take the couch out here. It’s larger than my apartment. I’ll…be fine.”  
She dropped her purse on the corner of the couch, and awkwardly backed away from him toward the bathroom with her overnight bag clutched to her chest, “I’ll just…I’ll…” she shook her head in embarrassment, and recovered, saying very quickly, “I’ll go change.”  
Kendall watched her disappear down the hallway, and he heard the bathroom door close tightly. He took another sip of tea and stepped outside. The Milky Way glistened above in the night sky.  
More coyotes in the distance.  
He lost track of time—how long had he been out there? Seconds? Minutes? He heard Jess take a call. He strained to hear—anything—but could not make out the words. Perhaps it had been his mother. His sister. Definitely not his father. Or not Rava. She was, for all intents and purposes, done with him—and for good reason. Still, the conversation continued. He felt her get nearer.  
“OK,” she said in something of a tense voice. It was tight, clipped. “Well, keep me posted. Keep me posted.”  
Usually, when he overheard her in conversations like these, bad news came next. His spine stiffened, and he continued to look at the stars.  
He smelled her before she spoke. She smelled of soap and steam. She had taken a shower.  
He glanced over his shoulder briefly, and she stepped out onto the deck. Jess shivered slightly; Kendall surveyed her through his peripheral vision. High-end linen pajama set. Bare feet. She shivered again.  
More coyotes.  
“You cold?” He asked as he set his mug on the railing. Kendall shed his hoodie with maybe a little too much enthusiasm.  
“No, no, I’m OK.” She shivered again, “Please.”  
“Come on, you’re shaking.” He put the hoodie on her shoulders. She instinctively pulled away for a moment but allowed it.  
“Any news?” He asked cumbrously; Kendall couldn’t bear it anymore. He’d been isolated for too long.  
“Oh…” She mumbled and slipped her phone into her pocket. Jess was silent for a moment and slipped her arms into the hoodie sleeves. She felt the residual heat from his body inside of the sweatshirt.  
“No.” She finally said as she crossed her arms against her chest. The action made her pajamas strain against the curve of her breasts. Kendall stole one glance before pretending to search for the coyotes.  
“No? What was the news? Keep you posted—all that?” He saw something moving in the distance.  
“It—it wasn’t work-related.”  
“…wasn’t work-related…”  
“It wasn’t.”  
“Jess, if you’re keeping something from me,” Kendall turned to her and faced her head on, forgetting the mug of tea, which tipped over into the succulent garden below and smashed into a rock, “because you want to shield me—”  
“It’s, it’s not that.” She looked nervously over the railing at the broken mug.  
“I can handle it. I’m ready to come back.”  
“Kendall—”  
“You can tell me.”  
“I can’t—”  
“Fuck my family. If they told you not to tell me--”  
“It’s not that.”  
“Then what? Then what, Jess?”  
“It’s personal—”  
“Fuck personal—you work for me.” Kendall postured brazenly, thinking it would get him somewhere, get her to break.  
Jess froze and her expression grew grave. Suddenly Kendall was the one who shivered.  
“It’s my brother.” Her voice broke as she spat the words at him. He stood in shock at her emotion. “My mother doesn’t know where he is.”  
So, Jess had a brother. And a mother.  
“I—I—I—” Kendall stammered.  
“She’s keeping me posted, “ Jess continued and turned from him. Kendall couldn’t tell what was worse: her back to him or the glare that she had lobbed at him. Her voice grew soft, and she spoke almost to herself. “I guess I won’t be getting sleep tonight anyway.”  
“I’m… so sorry.” Kendall said to the back of her head, which was bowed.  
“It’s fine.” She said, “it’s fine. It’s happened before.”  
“Where—um—” Kendall cleared his throat and realized he didn’t know where she was from, “where does your family live?”  
“Sonoma. Santa Rosa.”  
“Ah, that’s a beautiful—”  
“They lost the house last year in the fires.”  
“What—”  
“And it’s been really hard on him.” The words started tumbling out of her mouth now; she’d kept them bottled up for so long it almost felt good. “He had to drop out of Sonoma State to help my mom.”  
“Are—are they—”  
“He started using in school,” she continued, completely ignoring his questions, “and disappears sometimes.”  
Kendall drew a sharp intake of breath.  
“My mom always has to call around, stalk his Instagram followers… and she finds him.”  
“He’s—what’s he doing…”  
“Heroin.” She turned back to him and met his gaze steadily. He watched her lip quiver slightly.  
“I—I’m so sorry.”  
Her mouth twisted into a sad smile. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”  
“If—If you—or if he—needs help,” Kendall stepped closer to her and she let him, “I can—”  
“No, no.” Jess cut in and shook her head, “no. I couldn’t accept—you’re—”  
“I’m your boss, yeah, but it wouldn’t be…in that context,” Kendall said, “it would be… as a friend.”  
“No. No, thank you. Thank you so much—”  
“Jess, I mean it.” Kendall reached out to her, to move to make contact with her shoulder, but he stopped himself and stuck his hand into his pocket. It was cold outside.  
Coyotes again, closer this time.  
“You don’t have to worry about anything,” he said, “I’ll make a call. And it’ll be done. Just say the word. The offer’s on the table.”  
“I appreciate your generosity.” Jess said evenly.  
Kendall nodded and focused back on the sky. “See that bright star?”  
“Yeah.”  
“It’s Canopus.”  
“Hm.”  
“Named for—”  
“Menelaus’ navigator.”  
“Yes.”  
“Nice to know my Classics degree is good for something.” Jess commented dryly.  
“The Navajo call it the Coyote Star.” Kendall said quickly, eager to bestow some new information on her since she already knew the star’s initial etymology.  
“Fitting. They’ve been howling all night.”  
Jess’ phone buzzed. “Mom? Yeah—yeah, that’s good. Thank God. OK, call me – yeah in the morning.”  
She ended the call and closed her eyes for a moment.  
“She found him?” Kendall asked.  
“…Yeah. She did.”  
“Come on, it’s cold out here.” He said.  
They went back inside, and Kendall proceeded to the bedroom. Jess locked the house up. After a minute, he returned, holding two pillows and two blankets.  
“I’ll take the couch tonight.” He said.  
Jess was too tired to play the placating employee. “Thank you.”  
Kendall clumsily made up the couch, tucking one blanket into the cushions and laying the other one across them. “Um. Good night.”  
“Yeah, good night.” **  
The next morning Kendall awoke at seven, and he had hoped to walk by the bedroom and possibly get a glimpse of Jess sleeping in his hoodie. He sat up quietly and found himself ready to tiptoe through the house.  
“’Morning.” Jess had her palm on the top of the French press plunger, about to push down. “Coffee?”  
“That’d be great, thanks.”  
She was wearing his hoodie.  
Kendall accepted a cup and moved his mouth to speak, but there was a knock at the door.  
“That’ll be the chef.” Jess said quickly, avoiding his eyes, and went to let her in.  
Soon the chef was julienning vegetables for omelets and bacon was sizzling in the pan. Jess seemed to maneuver herself around the kitchen island so as to keep distance from Kendall. He watched as she fetched her laptop and briefcase from the dining room table and went out to the deck. The hoodie, he noticed, was big on her; she pushed the sleeves up to her elbows. Kendall trailed her steps and took the seat across from her.  
“Good coffee.” He commented glibly, “Be careful, I’ll ask you to do French Press every day.”  
She typed away on her laptop, glancing up quickly with a small smile.  
“Your brother OK?”  
“Yeah, thank you for asking.” Jess responded quickly.  
“Hey, so, how long am I on phone withdrawal?”  
Jess inhaled and paused typing. She glanced at him and dug into her bag and produced his phone.  
“It’s charged and ready to go.” She said.  
“Ah!” Kendall exclaimed under his breath as he grabbed his phone, “thanks.”  
“You’re welcome,” Jess trained her gaze on her computer screen and continued to type.  
Kendall sipped the perfectly made cup of coffee and watched her work, in spite of the fact that his phone was sitting ready and waiting in front of him on the table. She was there, as she had been for much of the past year, right across from him. Typing away, busying herself. She was at work, but he was not. It was in that moment, as he was gazing at her wearing his hoodie, that one thought passed through his mind.  
“No. Not now.”


	3. 3

Kendall almost immediately regretted asking for his phone back; the emails and the notifications were completely overwhelming. He pressed his thumb against the power button on his phone to put it to sleep and slipped on his sunglasses so he could look at Jess without her noticing. His heartrate quickened, and Kendall watched her work steadily, her eyes laser-focused on her laptop screen, bare fingers typing away. Still, no rock. She hadn’t missed a step. What had she been doing while he had been in rehab for two months—besides breaking up with some supposed fiancé? Helming the damage control campaign with Karolina, no doubt. She had been busy, but she was looking great.   
No. Not now. His mind screamed at him again.   
He was in recovery—he couldn’t get wrapped up in something messy. Something like getting distracted by Jess sitting across from him in pajamas. Something like having an ill-advised tryst with his young assistant. Something like falling for—  
“So, they want to have you attend the museum opening.” Jess mentioned, her eyes still on her screen. “As sort of a re-entry…thing…”  
“When is that?” Kendall shuddered at the thought of a crowd of people. He found himself instead wanting very much to keep sipping coffee that she had made.   
“It’s next Friday.” Jess said as she double checked her calendar, “In Los Angeles. Looks like it’ll be drinks—I mean—”  
Kendall waved his hand to pardon her: “It’s fine. Drinks—meaning club soda—and then what?”  
“Um,” Jess reminded herself she would have to reform more of her everyday vocabulary. Her cheeks felt warm. “Just routine stuff: the governor will be there, senators, etc. They’re expecting—”  
“Yeah, I know what they’re expecting,” Kendall nodded, “yeah, that’s fine. I can do that.”  
“If you don’t want to, there’s also—”  
“No. I can do it. Plug me into that.”  
He watched Jess hesitate, but only slightly.   
“OK, I’ll get on it.” She said. “Would you like to extend your stay here? Or would you want a room at The Standard?”  
“Here, yeah.” Kendall said immediately, but evenly, “It drowns out the noise. Two weeks at least.”  
“OK. I’ll contact—”  
“And I’ll need you here, too.” A big ask. A protracted extension of the night before—playing with fire, for sure. He wasn’t proud.   
“—contact the tailor—what? Wait, what?”  
“I mean,” Kendall backtracked as soon as he gauged her reaction; there was too much panic for his comfort, “that’s if—I mean, you don’t have to—”  
Jess had been hoping to angle for a quick trip home. Just to check on Michael. And her mother. She scanned her brain, looking for the last time she had seen them. It had been a year and a half.   
They would have to wait. It was the fifteenth of the month; hopefully the payment had gone through.   
Before Jess could respond, the chef appeared with the breakfast: omelets with tropical fruit and spelt bread. Jess slipped her laptop into her bag and stared at the food. She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Kendall dug in himself just to have something to do but watched her out of his periphery. Perhaps it had been his erstwhile intoxication, but he observed a sinking sadness in her that he’d never noticed before. He found his mind wandering back to the night before, and he found himself wanting to envelop her again. Maybe this time more for her wellbeing than for his. It would be nice, he thought, for someone to need him, though. He fought off the craving to touch her.   
He pretended he was his hoodie.   
He watched as she pushed an errant lock of hair off her forehead. Her hair was never out of place. Kendall bit his lip for a moment, in thought, before taking another sip of coffee.   
“Hey, you wanna go for a hike?” He asked. 

“Kendall, I don’t have anything to wear.” Jess persisted.   
“They do have stores out here, don’t they?”  
“I—”  
“Come on,” he said, “I saw a Wrangler in the garage. Let’s go.”   
“Where?”  
“I don’t know—what’s out here?”  
“A few friends have recommended Ryan Mountain—”  
“Let’s go, then.” Kendall trotted into the house and grabbed some clothes from his bag, calling back to her on his way to change in the bathroom, “we’re leaving phones here. Get dressed.”  
They drove into Twentynine Palms. There was not much to the town, but Jess spied a Dollar General. Not ideal, but they had what she needed/did not want: a t-shirt that said I heart Twentynine Palms, a pigment-dyed ball cap that said JOSHUA TREE across the front, and a pair of unironic split shorts in lime green. They also had the world’s worst footwear for a hike in the hills: lightweight slip-on sneakers that a grandmother would wear at a Saturday farmer’s market.   
“Believe me,” Kendall laid down his Amex black card. “I insist.”  
“Fair.” Jess had to laugh. She outright giggled at the outfit before her. Kendall smiled to himself as he signed the receipt.   
In the parking area for the trail head, Jess was presented with a small dilemma: Where to change? She opted to slip into the backseat of the Jeep while Kendall edged out of the driver’s seat and meandered over to the map across the parking lot, pretending not to care about what was going on behind him. He then pretended to study the trail guide posted by the trailhead for a moment before stepping around to the other side of the map that explained various ecological features of the hike. Behind the safety of his dark glasses, he looked past the map and back into the Jeep. He watched, brazen but abashed, as Jess bucked her hips into the air, wiggled out of her pencil skirt, and slid into the too-short shorts. Kendall swallowed once as he watched her open her blush silk blouse, button by button. Through the back window of the soft top, he could see what looked to be a lace-edged plunge bra that seemed to be half a size too snug, but his view was quickly obstructed by the oversized tee that Jess pulled over her head.   
That was that.   
He ducked back behind the map.  
Kendall wrenched open the water bottle and downed a third of it. Was it too hot to go on a hike? It seemed hot, all of a sudden.  
She advanced to him, crossing the parking lot with a light step; she seemed to be enjoying herself?   
“Ready?” She asked him.  
“Ready, Freddy.” He said and then immediately regretted it.  
Jess smiled a little, partly out of amusement, and partly out of pity and encouragement, and, after accepting a water bottle from him, brushed past him to start the trail.   
Kendall emanated a particularly malignant strain of loneliness—and Jess had almost forgotten how much of the backdrop of his identity was colored by that.   
The hike itself was gorgeous. The weather was perfect, and they did not get lost. The air was fresh, and their water stayed relatively refreshing. As they ascended a high rock outcrop, they decided on a rest. With the valley out before them, and the landscape dotted with Seussian Joshua Trees, Jess and Kendall sat next to each other on the large smooth rock in the California desert sunshine.   
“A perfect day for a hike.” Jess commented lamely.   
She kept her eyes focused on the view but could feel his trained on her.  
Kendall responded with a small “mmm.”   
There had always been something to do. Something to discuss. Something to plan. Something to solve. Some pressing issue. Jess pictured her work phone back on the kitchen counter, vibrating with problems.   
But out there, in the desert, everything was quiet. Jess continued to pretend to survey some far-off clouds, but she continued to feel Kendall’s eyes on her. Unsure of what to do, she made a snap decision.  
“What?” She asked pointedly, turning to him. It was hard to make eye contact; the Oliver Peoples’ shades were quite opaque.   
However much Kendall wanted to believe that his sunglasses somehow made him immune from the consequences of his feral moments of micro-voyeurism, they were not a failsafe shield.   
“N-Nothing.” He stammered, “just…”  
Kendall trailed off and paused, but Jess held her gaze.   
“Thank you.” He said softly and broke eye contact. “Thank you for putting up with me. For picking me up. For…wearing Dollar General chic to go on a hike with me. For…”  
For being the one who was concerned enough to have the doorman break into my penthouse that night. For being the one to make the call. Jess recalled that night vividly in her mind as he searched for skin deep words to describe his gratitude. She observed him carefully; she was fairly certain he didn’t know that she had been the one to find him.   
“Don’t mention it.” She said firmly, “I needed a break anyway. It’s good to remember there’s more to life than the island of Manhattan.”  
Kendall gave a short, almost indiscernible nod and a shadow of a smile.   
More silence, but Jess continued to study him. She watched, riveted, as he struggled to find more words. Her fascination was tinged with a streak of sadness as she watched Kendall move his lips to speak, only to be confounded by what she could only assume was a torrent of emotion behind that familiar lost countenance. She had seen that look before.   
It had been her second week on the job. She was sitting in her cube and heard Logan Roy roar in his office. Kendall had gone in only moments before with bad news: the acquisition of a Taiwanese media conglomerate had fallen through. She had strained to hear Kendall’s father’s exact words, but the tone was one of evisceration. Everyone in the office was frozen, secretly listening while pretending to stare at work on their screens (as had been instructed—that was the off the record portion of the onboarding). Kendall emerged from the office and had taken an unsteady breath, in complete contrast from the smooth-talking, devil-may-care attitude he conveyed to her initially. At first, Jess had been unable to read the exact emotion that was on his face—it could’ve been sadness, anger, contempt, or embarrassment. His eyes were turned downward, and the lines on his face seemed deeper.   
She watched him for a moment as he regained his composure and headed off to his office. There had been an urgent message that she needed to give him, and so she customarily knocked on his door, but did not wait for permission to come in. Her gaze had been focused on the email she’d received, and she raised her eyes to find Kendall at his desk with his head down. At first, she thought he had almost been crying, but no. He sniffed quickly, and sat up, visibly mortified to find her standing in the doorway. There was a small dusting of white powder on the desk ledger. Beside it sat his Amex Black card. She relayed the message quickly before backing out. Neither one had spoken of the moment since.  
It was then, during her second week, that Jess had seen a tiny piece of Kendall’s core. The raw core that he had kept hidden. He hadn’t meant for her to walk in, especially without waiting for permission to enter, and he had meant to reprimand her, but if he had, it would’ve made the moment tangible, which was not at all what he wanted. Instead he ignored it, and she ignored it, and they moved on.   
But the experience had lingered in the back of Jess’s mind, and it had informed every unprecedented decision she had made in her job, especially after the other assistants had quit their positions, and she had been the only one left standing. She found herself checking in with him via text after hours, just to make sure she’d get a response.   
She had always done that with Michael.  
That one night—an ordinary Wednesday in January—when she didn’t get a response after receiving a confusing string of chaotic text messages that day was the night that she grabbed an Uber to his downtown penthouse, the new one he had moved into after he had separated from his wife. She had a key fob for the elevator, but the door to the apartment had been bolted from the inside. Jess recalled having to go back down, convince the doorman and the super to come up with her, and get the door open by removing it from its hinges.   
The next few moments were like a nightmare. She found Kendall, lying prone on the bathroom floor. His skin had taken on a bluish hue and a dark trail of blood oozed from his nose. The super had appeared behind her, cursing. He then ran off to call 911, but she had already dialed. They would be there in four minutes.  
“Kendall,” she knelt down and laid her hand on him. He had a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, and he did not answer. Instead, there was a low gurgling sound from within his body, and he vomited onto the bathmat.   
Her heart raced as she struggled with what to do. At least he was still alive. The wait for the paramedics seemed forever. The rest of the night entailed speaking to authorities, introducing herself to Rava over the phone and telling her to come to the hospital immediately because she was still considered Kendall’s next of kin, and calling Karolina to start the damage control.   
Kendall didn’t know about any of it.   
So, they sat there, on the rock, thinking about heavy things. Jess steeled herself as she wondered if her brother was on the same path Kendall was on a few months ago. The only difference between Kendall and her brother was a few billion dollars.   
She glanced back at him, and he had given up on looking at her.   
Recovery would not be the time, he reminded himself again. Recovery was for recovery, not for ill-advised liaisons. Recovery could entail finally getting to Shanghai. It could mean gaining a foothold in the China market. But he couldn’t deny his dependency: If Jess had agreed to stay with him in the desert, could he get her to go with him to China?   
She would stay with him until the event next week, she told herself. Then she would go home for a bit. Just to check on Michael. To make sure her mom was surviving. Jess turned to Kendall and prepared herself to ask for time off—for the first time. She took a breath and parted her lips, ready for the jump.  
Kendall leaned into her, daring himself. He got inches from her cheek, debating on whether to guide her lips to his or let her find her own way to him. The effect, which was creepy, was not his desired outcome. He was close, impossibly close to her—they locked eyes for a fleeting moment--but he played it off at the last moment as a foot that had fallen asleep and needed a shift. So fucking awkward. Jess felt what he wanted to do; Kendall always betrayed himself with emotion—and she was catching on.  
“I think I’m—ready to keep going.” Jess rose, dusted off her impossibly skimpy shorts, and walked back down to the trail.   
Silence.   
Jess took a small sip of water and slowed her pace as Kendall caught up with her. Her window for asking for time off had closed. Now they were in a completely different plane of reality.   
Shit.   
“Hey, we should get dinner tonight. In Palm Springs.” He said.   
“Karolina thought it best if you were to keep a lower profile—”  
“Right. Right.”  
“The chef is coming back for dinner, so—”  
“Of course. Right. No, that’s best.”  
“You ready to head back?” She suddenly stopped in the middle of the trail.   
“Yeah.”  
The hiked in silence back to the car. They sat in silence as they drove back to the house. It was mid-afternoon now, and given their absences from their phones, it would have seemed to the outside world that they might be dead.   
There was a lot of work to do when they arrived, and Jess was grateful for the distraction. She sat down at the kitchen table and opened her laptop. Kendall went outside and flopped onto a lounge chair.   
Maybe she would turn off her computer and jump in the pool.  
Jump in the pool and sit at the bottom for a while. Because that’s what life felt like these days.   
For the next few hours after lunch but before dinner, Jess avoided Kendall, which was hard in a one-bedroom isolated bungalow in the desert. After successfully dodging him for two hours, he caught her on the deck.  
“Hey,” he said, “um, I—I just want to apologize—”  
“It’s fine—”  
“No, it’s not.” He said, “I’m—sorry. For—um—before. That was inappropriate, and it was unprofessional.”  
“I’m…not sure….”  
“I’m—I’m not—I’m in a weird place right now,” he continued, in a stilted tone, “and I have to relearn a lot of things. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. And I don’t want you to feel beholden to me or responsible for me, so you don’t have to stay here. You can go.”  
Jess realized she was at a crossroads there, listening to his words. Her job was enormously important to her, not only because it helped pay off her student loans, but because she had enough money left over to subsist in Manhattan and most importantly to send money home. She had people depending on her. But she also didn’t want to go.   
She had been silent and still as she pondered her choice, which made Kendall’s stomach drop. He watched her rise from the deck chair and face him straight on. He steeled himself for when she would speak; he liked this newly-revealed assertiveness from her, but it terrified him.  
“Last year,” she started in a soft, steady voice, “when I started, I had no idea what I was getting into.”  
He blinked and nodded slightly, trying to demonstrate that he knew what she was going to say. He didn’t.  
“Many people told me not to take the job,” she continued, “People specifically told me about you.”  
Oh, shit, here it comes. He thought. Time to call counsel.  
“That you were some rich heartless prick,” Jess shifted her weight and crossed her arms, “that the Roy men were predators.”  
Kendall tried to clear his throat silently and failed. He realized this moment had been the longest he’d allowed Jess to speak without him interrupting since he hired her.   
“But they were wrong about you.” She said, and Kendall struggled to contain his relief. His relief, however, would be gravely short-lived.  
“I see now,” she said, “here. That you’re not bad, you’re just…I don’t know…you’re…”  
Broken. He actually did know what she wanted to say. Broken.   
How many times would he sob in front of her? He had already lost track. He cursed at himself to keep it together, but it didn’t matter. She saw him. Not just in that moment, not just in the physical sense, but repeatedly and consistently and deeply, over the course of the past year. She seemed like the only one.  
Maybe that’s why he’d switched his emergency contact from Rava to her.   
“—OK, I—” He cut in, not quite knowing what to say, but knowing that he didn’t want to hear her utter that word--broken. “Jess, listen—”  
“I get it.” She interrupted him, “I get it—to an extent, at least. I do. And I am here for you.”  
Such simple words. Their intent seemed foreign to him. His hands began to shake. Good lord, was she going to break him down every day with the purity of her loyalty and straightforwardness? His heart couldn’t take it.  
“Kendall,” his name sounded lovely on her tongue; she didn’t use it often, “I’m not going to go.”  
His eyes were downcast again—like that day he walked out of Logan’s office. Touching him at that moment was the most ridiculous thing she could choose to do, but she did it anyway. She laid her hand on his arm, just like she had done the night before as he had teetered on that dark precipice, and it had seemed to help. And it helped again, she noticed. He took a breath. He glanced down at her hand.  
“So, what happened?” Kendall took a deep breath, grateful to change the subject from his pain to hers.   
Jess instinctively pulled her hand away and hid it. The circumstances surrounding the absence of the ring on her left hand were still searingly fresh in her mind.   
“Um…” She whispered, pushing a stray lock of hair away from her temple, “he…told me…that he wasn’t in love with me, and he wasn’t sure that he ever was.”  
“Oh.”  
“So I gave the ring back.”  
“When?”  
“Last month.” Jess sunk back down into the deck chair. She kicked off the slip-on sneakers, squeezed her eyes shut, and stretched. The sun felt good. Talking felt strangely good.   
“I’m sorry.” Kendall uttered.  
He wasn’t.   
Jess opened her eyes and gave him a small, weak smile.   
“What do you want for dinner?” He asked.  
“I—I don’t—know—” She was used to deferring to him; it was a large part of her job.  
“Anything you want. Your choice.”   
“Oh really?”  
“Really.”  
“I’ll cancel the chef?”  
“Wait, why?”  
“I just want tacos.”


	4. 4

On Friday, they got a car back into Los Angeles. Kendall was struck by the look of surprise on Jess’s face when he suggested she should make a room reservation at The Freehand as a place for him to get ready. She commented that it was surprising; whenever he stayed in L.A., it had always been The Standard. He shrugged and commented offhandedly that he’d heard good things.

From who, her?

“So, the car will be here at 5:30,” Jess said as Kendall threw his bag onto the bed, “to give you enough time to get over there. ETA is 6:15. In, out. Done.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“No, the guest list—”

“Yeah, but you’re—you’re with me.”

“I don’t have anything to—”

“Jess,” Kendall flopped onto the bed and readjusted his headphones so they wouldn’t dig into his neck, “in the future you have to be more sartorially prepared. If I have to go to this stupid fucking thing, you’re coming. Make it work.”

Jess tugged at her lip with her teeth and considered her options: Rushing to the Grove and…rushing to the Grove. She glanced at Kendall, who had started to doze off with his music and sunglasses on. She made a call.

Kendall awoke as the tailor was hanging the suit on a valet. He could hear Jess’s voice in the doorway, talking with someone. She had ordered room service, and he dug into some hummus and carrots. 

He couldn’t see who she was talking to; there was some light laughter, he noted as he went for another carrot, and he saw Jess lean out to give the person a hug. She came back in with a garment bag and heels.

“Outfit delivery service?” He asked; that must be a thing.

“My friend. From college,” Jess explained, “I reached out, and she saved the day.”

Kendall crunched into a third carrot; oh, to have friends like that.

“Where’d you go?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“To college,” he answered, “I feel like you know everything about me… and I…know very little about you.”

“Berkeley.”

“And a major in Classics.”

“Yeah.” She held the garment bag close to her. They were relieving her third-round interview. He had asked her all of these questions before. There had been so much he didn’t remember. Or had just failed to notice. 

“Minor?”

“Psychology.”

Kendall raised his eyebrows at her response, “well, you’ve come to work for the right company.”

She had heard that one before.

“I should get changed.” She pointed to the bathroom and then disappeared into it.

A few minutes later, Jess emerged in black cocktail dress with a fitted bodice and a straight skirt and a strapless sweetheart neckline. Her hair was loose, and she wore a deep magenta shade on her lip and mascara on her lashes, which made her look a little surprised, Kendall estimated.

Or maybe her surprise was his reaction to her.

He stared at her as she came into the room, fidgeting with the strap of the heel. The shoes were half a size too small. She bent down and readjusted it. Kendall watched as she did so, and he saw a glimpse of the full curve of her breasts. She caught him as she straightened but avoided his eyes directly.

“Is there something wrong?” The words fell from her matte lips before she could think to stop them.

“What? No!” Kendall finished buttoning his shirt and turned to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. He adjusted the waistband of his pants and hoped she hadn’t noticed. Could he walk around his first public event since rehab with his cock hard? He reached for the suit jacket and slipped it on, reminding himself to keep it buttoned for a bit. Kendall made eye contact with himself for a second in the mirror.

The reflection was embarrassing.

“You ready?” Jess called to him.

His only answer was turning from his image and following her out the door. With his hands in his pockets, Kendall dug his nails into the sides of his legs to keep from pushing her up against the wall of the elevator.

Jess checked her phone; whatever tension that was emanating from Kendall at this point, whatever switch had been flipped, was acutely palpable in that elevator. She kept her eyes down and wondered what the HR protocol would be; Waystar Royco made things like that specifically byzantine and convoluted.

Jess wasn’t thinking, in that moment in the elevator, about the sensation sitting deep in her abdomen. She had avoided eye contact with him for three days now. There was too much there, too much to unpack, so many feelings she didn’t have the strength to deal with. She replayed the components of their power dynamic over and over again. It was anything but functional. Still, she accepted it.

Kendall completed the step and repeat dutifully. The camera bulbs flashed manically, but he kept his sunglasses on. His first move in these types of events would be to grab a passing drink. But Jess was there to quell the impulse. When he was done with photographs, she was waiting for him with a club soda and bitters.

The event was fairly straightforward, and Kendall painted his time in rehab as a “much-needed retreat” that was “long overdue.” Jess, meanwhile, stood on the perimeter of the room, which was a large, stark white atrium filed with post-modern mixed media industrial art installations. The crowd was fairly subdued, and the evening was going smoothly. She typed out a quick update email to Karolina. All was well.

As Jess hit send, she felt a presence beside her. She glanced up, half expecting Kendall.

It wasn’t.

“Odd place to be hard at work,” a bearded man in his late thirties sidled up next to her with a half-finished gin and tonic in his hand. “Working for the weekend? It’s eight o’clock on a Friday, FYI.”

Jess gave the man a tight smile. She knew what was coming next. He eyed her up and down very carefully.

“What’s your name?” He asked, sipping his drink so the ice slid into his top lip, giving him a reason to run his tongue across it as he eyed her.

“Jess.”

“Jess.” He hissed the word, “Jess. Jess.”

She nodded with an impatient smile.

“My name is Stewy.” He leaned forward into her space, implying she was rude for not asking.

“Nice to meet you.” She said stonily and pulled her gaze from him to scan the room. Kendall was talking with the governor; he didn’t notice her.

“You live in LA?” Stewy continued.

“No, New York.”

“Oh, well excuse me, is that why you’ve chosen to wear black tonight?” He placed his hand against what appeared to be his heart, “so you live in New York, but you’re from like, Ohio, right?”

“No, I’m from Northern California.”

“Ah. Bicoastal, I see.”

Jess blinked her eyes to stop them from rolling.

“So,” Stewy leaned in further and snaked his hand around her waist. His palm seemed hot against the small of her back and she tensed up. “Where are you staying while in town?”

The governor excused himself from Kendall, who stood by a particularly unpopular art installation. Given the space around him, he could see Jess across the room. The first thing he noticed was her body language, her figure cowered from the man who was too close for Kendall’s comfort. He immediately moved through the crowd to her. As he approached, Kendall felt the blood in his veins start to simmer.

“Stewy.” He said with an edge, as the man in front of him seemed to want to devour his assistant.

“Hey, bro!” Stewy replied, swiftly changing tones and retracting his hand from Jess’s waist and thrusting it toward Kendall, who did not take it. “Heard you were… decompressing… somewhere? How’d that go?”

“Fantastic. Thanks.” Kendall darted a quick glance toward Jess that pointedly communicated, “ _are you OK?”_

Her eyes responded, but he couldn’t read them.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a million years.” Stewy commented in a loud voice that implied a careless insincerity.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, Ken, this is my new friend, Jess.” Stewy placed his hand again on the small of her back.

“Yeah, I know.” Kendall said in a soft, even voice.

“Oh, you guys—”

“She works for me. She’s with me.” Kendall said firmly as he felt a surge of triumph from the deflated look on his old friend’s face.

“Ah…OK.” Stewy pulled his hand back, this time with more speed. “Well, man. It was good running into you. Jess, lovely to make your acquaintance. I hope our paths cross again. I bid you adieu.”

He spoke quickly and pressed a loose fist against his nostrils to wipe away cocaine residue. With a sniff and a nod, he left them.

They watched him go and stood in silence for a moment. Jess glanced at Kendall.

“Sorry about that.” He said. “I saw from across the room—”

“Yeah…um, you know him?”

“We went to college together.” Kendall sighed, “He’s been making some moves in New York, finance guy—always at all the parties.”

Jess nodded.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” He asked her.

“But you still need to—”

“I’m done. Let’s go.”

“You spoke with Congresswoman—”

“Yeah, filled her in on a bunch of things. Good talk. Come on.”

They got back into the hired SUV and went back downtown. Kendall was feeling good. A good, solid event, reconnecting. And that interaction with Stewy. Priceless. Kendall’s relationship with Stewy was one of constant machismo brinkmanship, usually a dynamic that Kendall never excelled at. But tonight? Tonight called for a victory celebration.

“You hungry?” He asked her.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Hey,” he called to the driver, “where is a good place to eat around here?”

“I know a place, sir. Great food. Good atmosphere.”

“All right then.” Kendall sat back. Living on the edge: asking the livery driver for dining recommendations in DTLA.

The SUV pulled up to a place lit up with neon lights. _Clifton’s_ , the sign read.

“Get the mashed potatoes.” The driver called to them as they got out. “Then go upstairs to the Tiki Bar. You won’t regret it.”

He drove off, and they exchanged looks.

“Remind me to never take restaurant recs from a driver ever again.” Kendall quipped as they stepped into the place.

It was a glorified cafeteria. Kitschy comfort food.

“I don’t know about this—” Kendall started.

“I’m so starving, I don’t care.”

They grabbed trays and each collected an obscene curation of food.

“You know what?” Jess said between bites after they had found seats in the back of the busy place, “the mashed potatoes aren’t half bad.”

They shared a smile and ate the meal in silence.

“Should we check out the Tiki Bar, then?” Kendall asked, only joking--except not really joking.

They returned their trays to the carts in the corner, like school.

“We don’t have to,” Jess said quickly. “I mean, I’m not sure you—”

“I can handle myself, believe me.” Kendall found himself grabbing her hand and leading her upstairs, “if you’re worried, you can order my drink for me.”

“Bitters and soda, it is.”

They approached a small host’s desk in a dark stairwell.

“Um, we’re looking for the Tiki Bar?” Kendall asked the hostess.

The woman, dressed in a floral vintage gown with perfectly coiffed hair and impeccably applied red lipstick, surveyed them appraisingly.

“Well, let me check if there is room.” She said coolly, “I’m not sure if you’re dressed correctly?”

Kendall blinked in disbelief. “We’re in cocktail attire.”

“Right,” the hostess said as she dialed the rotary phone at her desk, “you’re not aligned with our dress code.”

“Well, excuse us.” Kendall said as Jess watched his annoyance level rise incrementally, “I’m sure there is an exception to be made.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The hostess squinted and gave a plastic smile.

“Listen, Kendall,” Jess whispered to him, “it’s not a big deal. We don’t—”

“Jess, this is bullshit,” he whispered back, “this woman obviously doesn’t know who she’s—"

The hostess spoke to the maître d’ upstairs. “Well, they’re in cocktail attire, but it’s not vintage.”

“All right, listen,” Kendall raised his arms out in frustration, “my wife really just wants a Singapore Sling. Do I have to purchase a diamond tennis bracelet for you so we can get in?”

He threw open his wallet and laid $500 in front of her. The hostess bid the maître d’ good-bye and hung up the phone.

“It seems we have a spot for you.” She said with a strained grin. “Please, up the stairs and then it’s the door on your left. The password is luau.”

“A gatekeeper and a password?” Kendall called over his shoulder as he and Jess started to climb the stairs, “seems redundant. Maybe when I buy this fucking place, I’ll make some cuts.”

Jess wanted to crawl into a hole. She winced every time Kendall was like this. The last thing she wanted now was to sit with him in some ridiculous Tiki Bar in downtown Los Angeles after being felt up by his college friend.

“So I’m your wife now?” She asked carefully as they got to the door.

“It was for emphasis. Raising the stakes.” Kendall commented flatly.

“Well, then I think I deserve a raise.”

“That’s fair, I think.” Kendall said after a moment of reflection and a small smile.

They gave the password and were allowed into a tchotchke-filled, bizarre world of American mid-century cultural appropriation. They were showed to a small booth that doubled as a tiki hut.

“And what can I get you folks this evening?” The server appeared immediately. $500 seemed to go a long way in this place, Kendall noted. He bounced his knee up and down; the one-two punch of besting Stewy in front of Jess and putting the hostess in her place made him giddy.

“Bitters and soda for me—I’m driving—and this fine lady across from me will have a Singapore Sling.”

“Very good, sir.” He flitted back into the crowd.

“You really want me to have a Singapore Sling then, don’t you?”

“Isn’t that what one gets in these places?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Neither do I.”

The evening was strikingly normal, which Kendall immediately started to question. Was this what normal people did? Who were normal people? Was Jess normal? Did she make him normal?

There was no way he could know. As the evening wore on, Kendall grew nervous. He didn’t want it to end. On the way back to the desert, he raised the partition between the front and back seats, so it was like they were in their own private pod, being whisked away to their secret bungalow.

“Listen, Stewy’s an asshole. I’m sorry about that.” Kendall said, stretching out next to her.

“Hey, thank you, but you don’t have to apologize for his shitty behavior.”

“No one should treat you that way.”

“I know that.”

“If he comes near you again, I will fuck him up with a mean right hook.”

“You have a mean right hook?”

Kendall laughed in way that looked like a wince. “Um, I could.”

His phone rang. His father. Kendall answered it as his heart leapt into his throat.

Jess knew the drill. She focused on her phone and pretended not to listen while also taking note of all of the important points. Logan was enraged that Kendall had mentioned an acquisition of a media company from Mexico to a congresswoman, which had not been set in stone yet. Logan yelled, eviscerated, raged, and did not let Kendall get a word in edgewise.

After his father had hung up, Kendall slumped in the seat. He then launched his phone into the partition, causing it to ricochet off into Jess’ knee.

“Fuck!” She cried out in pain and clutched her leg.

“Holy shit,” Kendall was mortified, “I—I am so, so sorry—Jess—”

He stooped down on the floor of the back seat and grabbed his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. Kendall then crouched in the small space and knelt before her. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s OK—it was an accident.” Jess brought her hand away from her knee to reveal a sizeable contusion and a skinned gash.

“Oh…oh my god,” he breathed, “Jess…”

“I am so sorry.” Kendall pressed his forehead against her knee.

He then gently wrapped one hand around her calf and placed the other on the inside of her knee, his fingertips brushing her thigh. Kendall then tilted his forehead away from her and placed his lips against the darkening bruise. It was at that moment that a bolt of lightning coursed through her body. She gasped as his lips made contact with her skin.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, but his voice was barely audible.

As his breath hit her knee, she shivered and tried to ignore that feeling—that rush—low in her abdomen. It took her a moment to be able to think clearly. Jess reached down and grasped his shoulders.

“Please, sit up here.” She said. He followed her direction and sat down, but closer to her.

“I’m so sorry.” He said once more.

“Are you apologizing to me? You don’t have to apologize. It was an accident.”

Kendall didn’t respond—he didn’t even communicate that he had heard her. As they sped through the desert freeway, Kendall propped his head against the window and shut his eyes. Soon he was dozing off, exhausted from having to talk to so many people about such trivial matters, exhausted from hearing his father’s voice for the first time in over two months. As his mind sat in threshold consciousness, Kendall felt Jess slide over to him. He felt his head tilt back as she laid her lips onto his neck and traced a trail up to his mouth. He felt her hand slip into his trousers, and he groaned softly.

_There he goes_ , Jess thought as she typed on her phone, _groaning in his sleep again_.

Judging from how many times she’d witnessed this over the past year, she assumed he had an active dreamlife. 

The car slowed, turning into the drive, and came to a stop.

“Kendall,” Jess’ voice, in his mind’s eye, was simultaneously against his ear _and_ outside of the car, “we’re here.”

He awoke with a jolt; Jess was halfway to the front door already and had called back to him. Kendall rubbed his eyes and slid out of the backseat, careful to hold his bag against him as he followed her into the house.

With a small cry of anguish, Jess kicked off the evening shoes in the foyer. The silence and stillness of the house had sobered them. Kendall looked at Jess rub her feet, and he felt ashamed. She was so pure, so loyal. He would fuck everything up, as he always had. She was too good. He cursed at himself and went to the freezer to fill a dishtowel with ice.

“Here,” he said in a low voice, “sit on the couch.”

She did so, and watched him sit down near her, taking her leg into his lap. He gently laid the homemade icepack onto her knee, which was swelling now like an egg. That Otterbox had really fucked it up.

Kendall sat there silently, Jess’s leg across his thighs, holding the dishtowel. The ice was melting quickly, and streams of cold water started to spill onto his pants. But still, he sat, dutifully trying to complete some sort of penance.

“It’s—thank you. It’s not that bad,” Jess said, bringing her leg back and tucking it under her to rub her throbbing foot. She sat back on the couch and studied him. She moved to speak, but then her phone rang.

“Mom?” Her heart leapt into her throat.

“Hey sweetie,” the voice on the other end of the line sounded weary.

“Is everything—” Jess jumped up from the couch and headed out to the deck.

“Yes, yes.” Jess’ mother breathed steadily, “actually, everything is really good. And I wanted to call and say thank you.”

“Thank you--?”

“For arranging for Michael to get help.”

“…What do you mean?”

“For paying for rehab.” Her mother’s tone changed slightly, “he left this morning. They picked him up.”

“…He’s…”

“They called me last night,” her mother continued, “you didn’t know? Didn’t you call them?”

“No.”

“Then…who did?”

“Listen, Mom,” she said quickly, and stepped back inside. Kendall started making a fire. “I gotta go. Can I call you back--tomorrow?”

Before her mother could respond, Jess hung up, and confronted him.

“Can you help me out with something?” she asked him pointedly.

“…Sure.”

“My mom just called,” Jess said, “and told me that my brother is on his way to rehab. She was calling me to say thank you.”

“He’s on his way?”

“So you did this?”

“I made the call yesterday afternoon.” Kendall said evenly. “I thought—”

“—I can’t accept it.” Jess’ voice was shaking, “I’ll reimburse you.”

“Reimburse— _reimburse_ me?” Kendall laughed a little, incredulous at Jess’ reaction, and rose from the couch. He didn’t go to her. “Jess, it’s the least I could do.”

Jess opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She pursed her lips for a moment, her eyes glistening. When she did finally speak, her voice was thick. “Thank you.”

She fanned her face for a moment, hoping to whisk away the tears. She fanned faster and could no longer keep the emotion corked.

“You don’t know how much this means,” she cried. “This is everything.”

She stood there, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks, holding back larger sobs.

“I’ll—pay you back.”

“ _No_. No, you won’t. It’s a gift.”

Kendall stood in front of her, and awkwardly watched her try to stop crying.

“Thank you,” she managed as she stepped toward him and threw her arms around his neck, “thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured as he obligingly returned the hug and relished holding her as she cried.

“I know he’s safe now. The relief…” Jess whispered, her lips just brushing the crook of his neck as she spoke. She pulled back a little to look at him. Streams of tears stained her face, tears that Kendall would’ve gladly consumed, if she had allowed it.

“No one has…ever done anything like this for me before,” she sniffed as she ran a knuckle under her eye and broke the embrace. “This is—I don’t know—this is…”

“Well, no one has stayed with me for two weeks alone in the desert before,” Kendall shrugged a little but could not come off as glib. “So, we’re even…”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” Jess huffed a small laugh. She composed herself swiftly as Kendall watched: Jess exhaled, puffing out her cheeks, and drew the tears away from her face with the back of her hand. “Um, so…”

“Listen,” he said; he had put the dishtowel full of ice on the coffee table to start the fire and the ice had since started to tumble out of the towel; he hadn’t made a tight enough knot. The cubes spilled onto the floor.

_I’m a fuck up_. He thought about saying. _I’m sure you already know that._

She waited for him to speak.

_I don’t want to pull you into my shit._ Kendall lowered his head, watching the water pool on the table before him while the fire expanded behind him at the hearth.

Jess was silent.

“So, um…” he paused, searching for words, “—Can I just say something? In, like, an unofficial, non-boss capacity?”

“…No.”

“Sure. Yeah. OK, then.”

Jess bit her lip and went to change. When she came back out into the kitchen, in her translucent linen pajamas and Kendall’s hoodie, he presented her with a cup of tea. She accepted it and joined him on the couch by the fire. After a tense moment, Kendall lifted his arm over her and laid it across the back of the couch. They sat together, alone in the dark desert, drinking tea and watching the fire die.


	5. 5

Kendall’s eyes cracked open. It was early, probably no later than four. The moon was still out, and the house was cold. He stirred slightly—his arm had fallen asleep—and only then did he realize the reason his arm had gone numb was because Jess had laid her head across it. In fact, upon further inspection when his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Jess was using him as her own personal body pillow: her leg was entwined around his, and her arm was across his chest. He listened to her breathe in soft, even spurts. She was fast asleep.

So, Kendall couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember how he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t remember the embers dying in the fireplace. He couldn’t remember stretching out on the couch. He was almost angry that his short-term memory deprived him of the experience.

Nevertheless, his arm was tingling, and his throat was dry. Kendall gingerly lifted Jess’s head up ever so slightly and extracted his arm from under her. He then untangled his leg from hers, and slowly stood up. Careful of his movements while shaking his arm awake, he tiptoed into the kitchen and retrieved a water bottle from the fridge. Kendall found himself walking back over to the end of the couch and studying Jess as she slept.

She was a side sleeper, he observed. He took sip of water and prayed she wouldn’t wake up to find him, in complete darkness, standing at the end of the couch staring at her like he was some fucking monster in a horror film. Freddie Kruger haunting her dreams. _Jess Jordan and the Fucking Creeper_ – coming soon to a theater near you.

She slept with her mouth open a little, he noticed as he rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. Kendall finished the water and wondered how he could maneuver his way back into position—it was all he wanted. He crept over to her, eased down onto the couch, and slid his arm back under her. Jess shifted in response to the disruption with a small moan, and Kendall froze in terror that she might be waking up. But all she did was curl up closer against him; Kendall was only about an inch from the edge of the couch, so he wrapped his arm around her to anchor himself. Jess hugged him tighter—still fast asleep. 

Kendall laid there, staring at the ceiling, not wanting the sun to rise. He could lie there forever with her, if she would let him. With the weight of her head on his chest, he drew the deepest breath he’d drawn in months. And as much as he tried, he could not stay awake to enjoy holding her, and drifted off to sleep as the sky outside began to turn from inky black to indigo. A coyote yipped somewhere off in the distance.

At seven, Jess awoke with a deep breath and her eyes fluttered open. It only took her a split second for her eyes to focus and realize that her head was resting on Kendall’s chest; his heartbeat was in her ear. In a rush of unbridled panic, she rose in one swift movement, performed some impromptu acrobatics not without a few whispered expletives, and climbed over him as he slept soundly. Jess straightened and whipped her head over her shoulder: he did not stir. With a sigh of relief, she ran down the hall and found refuge in the bathroom. She pushed the door closed while her mind raced. It was then that she realized the burden of restraint would fall to _her_.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

**

When Kendall finally did wake up, the French Press coffee was already made, the chef had already left breakfast for him on the stove (as instructed), and Jess was working outside on the deck, dressed in her skirt and blouse. He sat down across from her, sunglasses securely on, and noticed the bruise on her knee had turned a deep purple.

He watched her as she worked. He took stock of the last few days, and, through his chaotic mind, there had been one clear thought: Jess had been the one. The one to keep him steady, the one who had been there for him when no one else cared, the one who looked upon him with no judgment. Paying for her brother’s rehab _was_ the least he could do because she had done so much for him. He longed to tell her all that he held inside of him; the air had become heavy with words left unspoken. Her eyes pleaded with him, but he couldn’t tell what she was pleading for.

_Just carry shit around, bottled up. Just add Jess to the ugly pile of neuroses trapped in your brain—she is already there all the time anyway._

“So,” she said, breaking into his thoughts, “the board meeting on the Shanghai deal was pushed to Wednesday from Friday. Do you want to call in for that—”

“No, I want to be there. Wednesday?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, I want to be in the room.”

“Understood.” Jess said, “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Kendall nodded firmly, but her assuredness, her immediate compliance to make the arrangements to travel back to the real world, stung him. She was so incredibly quick to end their time there. He had almost wanted her to argue to stay a little longer. To call in for the meeting. To take more time.

But she didn’t.

He wondered where his hoodie was.

**

Over the next four days, Jess distanced herself considerably. Her demeanor was much more formal, much more reserved, “back to normal.” Gone were the split shorts, the magenta lipstick, the Kendall found himself going on hikes alone, which he didn’t entirely hate, but his mind started to go into overdrive. He began replaying moments from the past two weeks over and over again, wondering where he had misspoken. He questioned every moment, every interaction. He came to the conclusion that it was that night on the couch, the best moment for him so far--had it been the worst for her? Was that the proper conclusion to make? He had no clue.

In response to the tone change, Kendall clammed up, Jess had noticed. She screamed at herself, fought the urge to _not_ throw herself into his arms, because she knew this was for the best. This was how it should be; she had a glimpse of the path ahead, and it would be best to keep things professional. _She_ , after all, would be the one to fall the farthest if things were to go…wrong. She had seen too many of her female colleagues make poor choices with stars in their eyes, only to be irrevocably hurt by the patriarchal stronghold. 

As they pulled up to the jet that Tuesday, only a week and half after her initial arrival, Jess felt as if she had just come off the tarmac at Van Nuys, but it also felt like a century ago. They boarded the plane silently, got settled silently, took off silently, and cruised silently. Kendall noticed Jess didn’t opt to get work done; she just stared out the window. He had his headphones and sunglasses on but didn’t switch on a playlist. Instead, he just took her in. She felt him despite the dark glasses but didn’t confront it. She let him stare. As they neared the skies over Pennsylvania, they hit major turbulence—a rainstorm.

After what had been a smooth flight, they landed at Teterboro in a steady rain that caused the jet to sway from side to side like a pendulum. Jess momentarily thought they’d crash into Route 17. She exhaled as they bounced onto the runway; she would never get used to all the flying. They ran to the waiting SUV from the airstair and got soaked. Soon they were en route to the city, and the irregular rhythm of the windshield wipers punctuated the ride to 395. The Lincoln Tunnel was jammed, and they sat on the helix, staring at the Manhattan skyline, which was cloaked in a low, mauve fog.

“Welcome home, then,” Kendall commented—the first words he had uttered in nine hours.

Jess allowed herself a smile. “LA traffic was worse.”

“Oh, come on,” Kendall countered, “you have to admit there’s sort of a distinct charm about not only being trapped in suffocatingly ridiculous traffic in a massive nor’easter, but being trapped on 1930s infrastructure that may go at any time.”

She smiled again, this time showing teeth.

“We’ll drop her off first,” Kendall mentioned to the driver as they finally cleared the tunnel thirty minutes later.

“Oh, no,” Jess protested, “you’re first.”

“We’ll drop her off first.” Kendall repeated to the driver, and then, turning to Jess, “your address?”

She breathed deeply, preparing herself for him to see where she lived, “320 East Forty-Second.”

“Tudor City?” Kendall asked to her.

She nodded.

“You like living on lockdown whenever there’s something going on at the UN?”

She smiled at the jab and stared out the window at the chaos of midtown and murmured, “Yeah, well, it’s around the corner from a Patsy’s so…”

“ _Patsy’s?_ ” Kendall feigned offense in a casual tone. “Spoken like a true Californian.”

“And where do you go?”

“Ray’s, obviously.”

“Oh, you like Ray’s?”

“Best slice in the city since Mimi’s closed.” He said with a small huff, “When we lived on the Upper East Side, we’d go there. There—and Lexington Candy Shop. My dad would get a hamburger…”

Why was he telling her this?

Because she would listen.

Crosstown traffic, of course, was always a nightmare, and they sat on 42nd for a while. But it wasn’t long enough for Kendall. He wanted more time. He needed more time with her—in traffic, on a jet, alone in the desert. He’d see her the next day at 8 a.m., but it would be different. He wouldn’t be allowed to indulge in lingering glances, see her in her pajamas, or engage in small flirtations, or steal off to the bathroom in the middle of the day to get relief in the shower while she sat in the next room, unaware. He _clearly_ needed to start rebuilding the wall—she already had.

They arrived at Woodstock Towers, and the driver parked the SUV at the entrance canopy so that Jess could avoid the rain, which had started to come down in sheets. She popped out swiftly and retrieved her bags from the back. Kendall hopped out of the car as she was lifting the handle of her roller suitcase.

“Hey, you want to grab a bite?” He asked as they took shelter under the canopy. “Patsy’s? I’ll deign.”

“I’ve instructed Carla to prepare something for you,” she answered, “It should be waiting for you when you get home.”

“Oh…thanks.” Kendall paused, holding his hand to the back of his head in thought, “um—do you…need help with your bags?”

He motioned to her computer bag and her roller.

“I think I can manage—thank you, though,” Jess smiled.

“Sure. Of course,” he nodded.

Jess made a move to walk in but stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

She unzipped the top of her roller, reaching into it and dug around a bit. After a moment, she pulled out a garment: his hoodie. She handed it to him.

“Oh—I can wash it, if you need—”

“No, no need.” Kendall accepted it with a small laugh. He turned it over in his hand once and lifted his gaze to her.

Jess stood before him, poised to go inside. He watched her expectantly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, meeting his gaze. The rain hammered at the canvas above them. “For what you—"

“I think I’m the one who should be saying that,” he whispered back in a serious tone, holding her gaze, deepening it. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder a moment, and, before Kendall could prepare for, or enjoy, or believe it, she leaned in and laid her lips against his cheek. Soft, sweet. It was so quick that he didn’t even have time to close his eyes. She smelled like rain.

“Good night.” She said in his ear.

But it wasn’t good night; it was goodbye. True, he would see her the next day, but it was still a farewell. Clearly valedictory.

Kendall didn’t respond, he only smiled, this time with a visible streak of sadness. Jess turned and went inside her building, and each step was heavier than the last. He watched her go into the elevator and disappear upstairs. He didn’t see the tears running down her cheeks when she got in the elevator.

Kendall held the hoodie to his nose for a moment before climbing into the car to go back to his empty penthouse.

**


	6. 6

The next morning at the office Jess was waiting at the elevator for him, as usual. She had his coffee for him, as usual.

“Good morning,” he said directly to her with a hint of a smile, probing her reaction as they strode into the office together. He had expected to see the weight of their time together written across her face, just as heavily as he had felt it. But she looked no different.

“’Morning.” Jess replied with an appropriate, measured smile. “Meeting is at 10. I’ve put a copy of the finance reports on your desk to review.”

He took a breath, “thanks.”

“Today is Sophie’s birthday—”

“Oh—fuck—”

“You are taking her to Dylan’s Candy Bar and the American Girl Café on Saturday. 2 p.m.” Jess said, “I’ve sent her a card, and you have time today at 3:30 for a FaceTime. Tonight is Serendipity—at 7.”

“Serendipity tonight—”

“Rava reached out.”

Kendall nodded slightly and took a sip of his coffee, which did not live up to Jess’ Desert French Press. He bristled at the idea of re-entering his life; nothing had really changed. Here, he was still a lackluster parent, a terrible husband, and a walking poster child for how nepotism could go horribly, horribly wrong. His stresses, problems, and triggers were all still waiting for him in Manhattan.

Perhaps he would move to Brooklyn.

“Also,” she spoke slowly, as if to convey her empathy, “Joan sent me a message. Your father wants to see you before the meeting this morning.”

Kendall nodded again, feeling a little ill this time. _Add disappointing son to the list._

“You’ll see him at 9,” Jess said, but he made no move to respond. They continued to walk in silence.

Jess walked with him to his office and then broke off to go to her desk. As she settled into a mound of a work, she noticed Roman roll in from the elevator. He circulated around the room, and, before heading to greet his brother, he rounded by Jess.

“Hey….” He paused, and she glanced up, wide-eyed; he’d never approached her before.

“…Jess…” She finished for him.

“No, yeah, I knew that.” Roman said quickly as he leaned on the wall of her cubicle, “hey, listen. How’s… he—” Roman made a quick, strange gesture with two fingers over to Kendall’s office “—doing?”

“Um,” Jess hesitated as she selected an appropriate update for a family member whom she had never spoken to before, “He’s… doing well.”

“So, we’re all on relapse watch, right?”

“What?”

“I mean,” Roman continued, “that’s a given, right? So, what should we do when he decides to go off the map again?”

Jess was now an addiction specialist? Roman looked at her in anticipation of some sort of answer. “Um…I found it helpful to have him drop a pin.”

“That’s it—drop a pin?”

“He also needs to see his recovery coach, get in touch with his sponsor, have therapy, go to meetings, I think and—”

“OK, yeah—drop a pin.” Roman stopped her; it was getting too complicated, “that’s doable.”

**

The days flew by at a dizzying pace. Kendall had no time to think about anything other than work. In the midst of the chaos of the office and long, aching hours, he would find himself glancing over to Jess, ever-present, ever-busy, to find a sense of stability. Jess had always been good at her job. She, not even truly knowing the actual nature of his problem, was the only one of his three assistants to turn a blind eye to his dysfunction several months before, and she had been the one that had stepped up and cleaned up his messes, kept him on track, covered for him, and propped him up—always without any hint of judgment. When others had quit because the job had become too impossible, too Sisyphean, Jess dug in and got it done. Whether or not that had been an attribute to be praised or pitied, Kendall was not sure.

And now she had been the bridge between the safe isolation of the desert and the harsh, unrelenting real world in which he was forced to live. She was his guide, his Virgil, guiding him through Purgatory and further into the Underworld.

Another meeting was being held for the China deal a week after Kendall had returned. Jess waited outside of the executive conference room as the meeting adjourned. Kendall emerged, looking triumphant—a look that Jess had not seen on his face in many, many months.

“It’s on. China’s in play.” He said quickly as they darted back to his office, “I need to get out there by next Monday—”

“—got it—”

“—and I need a residence—”

“—a residence—"

“—yeah, it looks like it’s a long-term thing,” Kendall kept cool, but there was a brightness in his eyes that seemed foreign to her, and she was heartened to see it.

“That’s fantastic,” she said as sat across from him in one of the large leather chairs by his desk.

“So for Shanghai, I need—”

“Mandarin tutor? Or Hu?”

“Both—and—”

“A translator.”

“Of course—but—”

“—I’ll get on it.”

“And so next week, when we get there, I need you to scout out some places.”

Jess blinked once and nodded dutifully as she took notes. No window to ask for time off—again. She moved to go back to her desk.

Jess went ahead and made the necessary arrangements. Emails, calls, confirmations, texts—all back to normal. Except for the looks. Their desks were diagonal from each other, and through the glass partition, she could feel Kendall’s eyes settle on her every now and then. All day. The looks made it hard for her.

Business as usual, but now with an added, inescapable layer of unarticulated thoughts--a subtext. Jess took great care to navigate through her day, always planning, anticipating, deducing, and double checking—anything to push away the inconvenient thoughts. Jess quickly hired a second assistant for Kendall and co-opted a PR intern for her bidding. Soon the old routine took complete hold, and the frantic feelings inside of her were muted. Too often, though, an image of their time from the desert—the hike, the looks, the tea, the fire, the ice, the emotions—would burst into her mind’s eye, uninvited and unexpected, like some hallucination rooted in a parallel universe. They had so much that was unfinished—or had it not even started? But as the routine set in, and as the days passed, Jess grew accustomed to the discomfort, and it became manageable.

A few days before the first trip to Shanghai, Jess was double checking Kendall’s schedule for the Shanghai trip late into the evening. The custodial staff had turned the lights off, as they always did after ten, and she sat at her desk, illuminated by her computer screen. Kendall, in his office, had just finished reviewing a report, and appeared in his doorway.

“You still here?”

Of course she was—he could see her the entire time.

“Yes,” she replied, “just making sure everything is good to go for Monday. Wheels up at 2 a.m.”

“Great,” he said, and took a few steps toward her, “hey, I know you’re slated to come with for next week—but we haven’t discussed the arrangement for Shanghai itself.”

“Oh, yes, I—”

“It’s projected to be a 12-month assignment. I need to get out of this city for a while—too many reminders of…well, anyway, I make some moves out there, come back, and take the next step here. So—you’re coming with me.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

“Actually,” Jess said after a moment, “I wanted to talk to you about—”

“I mean, because, I—” Kendall interrupted himself as he was bombarded with a flurry of conflicting emotions as he gazed down at her. Her eyes were wide, almost pleading with him, with unspoken words. Again, he couldn’t tell what she said, so he pressed on with some pasted-together words: “I need you with me. You keep me…where I need to be—God, fuck, that sounds—listen, I will bump your pay by 10K, you can choose where you want to stay—five star, whatever—I’ll pay a year’s rent on your apartment here, and, honestly, anything else you want. I know it’s a big ask…just…I…”

He trailed off, at a loss for words. Jess was silent as she studied him. She took a few deep breaths, looking like she wanted to speak, but decided not to each time. Jess glanced at the screen, down at her hands in her lap, and then back at him. The look on his face was breaking her heart—and her resolve.

“Can I have the night to—”

“Of course! Yeah, sure,” Kendall waved his hand nonchalantly, “take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you.”

The elevator bell dinged. Jess turned to see who it was: a delivery guy.

“Delivery for …Kendall...Roy…?” He looked at the receipt in one hand while he balanced an insulated pizza delivery bag in the other.

“Hi, yeah, that’s me.” Kendall said.

The delivery took the pizza box out of the bag and gave it to Kendall. It read “Patsy’s” across the top in vintage script. Jess smiled, but also somehow ended up feeling embarrassed for him.

The elevator dinged again, and the delivery guy was gone.

“So, yeah…surprise,” Kendall held the box awkwardly, looking down at it, “You hungry?”

“Starving, actually.”

They settled on the floor of Kendall’s office, sat across the coffee table from each other, and each took a slice.

“I have to say,” he commented in between bites, “this is pretty good. But honestly, I was _about_ to order Grimaldi’s.”

Jess smiled and shook her head in mock disapproval. “Never. Grimaldi’s never gets the leoparding right. Thank you, though, I didn’t know I needed this tonight.”

Then it hit her.

“…Did you just happen to order this for yourself?”

“Um…no…for us…” Kendall admitted, “to enjoy while you decide whether or not to come to Shanghai.”

“Like I said,” Jess bristled and paused eating, “I need the night—”

“Right, right,” Kendall said dismissively, which made her grow wary of his motives, “but… you’re coming with me.”

Again, not a question.

“So you plied me with this pizza, which I recently told you was my favorite,” Jess had stopped eating, “in order to get me to agree to go to Shanghai with you…?”

When she laid it out like that, it sounded pathetic.

“Well…” Kendall started, but didn’t know what to say.

“Listen, Kendall,” –his name, she said his name—“it would be a big move for me. I would be far from my family—I haven’t seen them in over eighteen months as it is.”

“Eighteen months?”

“Yeah, just about,” Jess said, “I was actually going to ask you if I could take time off to go see them.”

“I mean—we’re going to Shanghai next week—” he cut in, “and your brother—he’s doing well now so…”

“I _know_ he’s doing well,” Jess said pointedly, “and I’m grateful for that. I am.”

Kendall waited as she paused.

“The trip would be short,” she explained quickly, “just for a few days. I haven’t used any of my days yet.”

“I think—I think that’s fine,” Kendall said, wanting to seem amenable, “You could see them on our way back from the scouting trip. You haven’t been on a vacation since you started?”

“No.”

Kendall didn’t respond. She had worked alongside him for over a year now, and she hadn’t taken the time. It made him feel…confused.

“Well,” he said, finishing his pizza and dusting the flour from his hands, “I hope you take the time to consider everything—and the opportunity itself that Shanghai presents. I also…”

He stopped for a moment, and Jess watched him as he paused and then decided to go forward with what he was going to say.

“You’ve kept me going,” he said, “not just since I’ve returned, but I think the whole time you’ve worked for me. I—I recognize that you are an important part in my success—”

“Kendall, I—”

“Just—let me…” he scooted over to her and sat before her, again attempting to double check his words before they spilled from his lips, “let me finish. Um…I need you to come with me. And I know it’s fucking weird between us right now. And I don’t want it to be weird, but I also—the last thing I want is to devolve into madness.”

“Yeah…me too…” That furrowed brow again; she couldn’t tell what he was saying.

Kendall dropped his head for a moment, frustrated with himself, “You can’t deny it.”

Jess was silent.

“You can’t,” Kendall asserted.

“Deny …what?”

“You know.”

Jess looked at him frozen. Did she dare to turn her mouth upward into a smile? Kendall wracked his brain for the answer as he searched her face for a clue.

“You know,” he repeated. “You know what happened in the desert. But—I see—that you’re smart. Smarter than I am, that’s for fucking sure. And the choice you’ve made since returning is…is a good one.”

Was he even making sense? Jess took another bite of pizza and watched him in frozen amazement.

“I…” He tapped his fingers against the glass top of the coffee table as he struggled. It was like Kendall was speaking another language for the first time, “I’m not going to pressure you” – _too late_ — “to come to Shanghai. And I can’t promise it won’t be fucking weird between us. But aside from all the bullshit, you’re essential.”

Jess pursed her lips so she wouldn’t laugh. And she didn’t _want_ to laugh at him, but she found it hard not to.

“Yeah, I know, I’m fucking this up,” he shoved the pizza box further away from him in frustration, “but I’ll let you get home, get sleep, think about it—and then you’ll let me know tomorrow? Because I sure as fuck can’t take Kerry.”

“OK.”

“Or Lance.”

“Right.”

“It has to be you, Jess.”

**

If she had framed it as having been worn down, Jess would have second guessed her decision. But she went in the next morning and told Kendall that she would move with him to Shanghai for the year.

“I have conditions,” she stated as she sat across from him, upright in the leather and chrome chair.

“Of course.” He said immediately, again pretending to anticipate what she was going to present. Her straightforward manner and direct gaze sent a shiver down his back.

“I’ve drawn up a contract,” Jess cleared her throat of nervousness as she produced a document on her tablet, “10k pay bump, as you mentioned, a condo in the former French Concession, and established time off.”

Honestly, what did Kendall think was going to happen? That she blindly would blindly accept his demand, and they would go skipping off into the sunset? He took the tablet and reviewed the document. She’d drawn it up astoundingly quickly—did she have legal consult? When did that happen between 11 p.m. the night before and 8 a.m. that morning? He glanced up at her, in a grey suit and v-neck cream blouse, and she sat, very still, gazing back at him.

“I think we can make that happen,” he uttered in a low voice after a moment, glad that he was sitting behind the desk and not standing in front of her.

"Fantastic." She nodded, rose, smoothed her pencil skirt so that it was free of wrinkles, and exited his office.


	7. Chapter 7

**

A/N: Sorry for my absence. New stupid job and a bout of depression. Hard to sit down to write when those things are happening. I’m sorry. That being said, it was so heartening to come back and see these kind messages about this story. Pure love! I am SO, SO glad that you all are enjoying it. Hopefully we get more Succession sooner rather than later, but in the meantime hopefully this little fic will hold you. I would hope that if you rewatch the first two seasons, you keep this backstory in mind—it was partly my goal in writing this in the first place.

Content warning (*******possible spoiler?*******): this chapter deals with grief, trauma and the emotions around loss.

Jess decided to go into the office that Saturday to prep for travel on Monday. As she got off the elevator at 8 am, she was shocked to see Kendall already in his office. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him in on a Saturday—alone.

“Why don’t you grab a tablet and work in here?” Kendall tried to make the suggestion seem offhand.

“I…” Jess began, but she was too tired to protest, “yeah, I can do that.”

She set up a station on the couch across from him, balancing her portfolio, her work phone and tablet on her lap. Her personal phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it and continued to work—business as usual. Her phone buzzed again. She ignored it again. It dinged with a voicemail. And a text message.

Jess pulled the phone out of her blazer pocket to silence it and saw the text message. Just one. From her mother.

_Call me._

“I have to—” Jess rose and trotted to the door with her phone.

“Sure,” Kendall nodded and watched as she went to the elevator bank, the area where people usually went to have personal breakdowns via cellphone.

After a moment of trying to review reports, Kendall quit feigning concentrating on work and edged over to the glass partition where he had a partial view of Jess on the phone. He saw her hang up, pace back and forth, and he watched her hold her face in her hands for a brief moment. Phone call from the ex-fiancé? Her whole countenance changed. Kendall was compelled to go to her, but instead, saw that she turned and was coming back over to him. He leapt back into his seat and pretended he hadn’t been watching her. She came back into his office and sat back down.

Kendall was afraid to ask. He let her speak.

“I…may need to take the rest of the day…um…”

“Is everything OK?” Kendall regretted the question as soon as he studied her face—of course everything was NOT fucking OK.

“My brother left rehab.”

“He’s—he’s left early?”

“And no one knows where he went,” she said, “he’s been gone now for eight hours. And I may need to go home—”

“—I’m sure he’s fine, he’ll be fine.” Kendall asserted weakly.

“I just need to make some calls, call around to friends, uh—”

“Of course, take all the time you need,” he said in a low voice.

“Thank you. I’ll forward items to Kerry—she can be your point person for the rest of the day.”

“Um… yeah, that’s fine,” Kendall agreed, “but you’ll still be reachable, right? I’ve got the event at the Met tonight—"

“Yeah, but…since I’ll be taking the day—”

“What am I saying—of course,” Kendall pinched the bridge of his nose briefly and shook his head. He was so bad at this. Bad at so much, really. “Take as much time as you need. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I mean—I might need to go home—”

“Right, but he’ll be fine. It’ll work out—and I’ll see you tomorrow night at the airport.”

Jess looked at him, confused. “I’ll…I’ll be in touch.”

Kendall took note of her knitted brow but couldn’t understand why she looked at him like that; it unsettled him, causing him more confusion. She moved to go, but he rose from his desk and reached toward her, stopping her.

“Hey,” he said and came up close, “if you need anything…”

“I appreciate it. You’ve done so much already,” she responded, keeping her eyes lowered as he clumsily grasped her hand. “I couldn’t ever begin…”

She trailed off as unspoken words hung in the air between them. After a moment Kendall relinquished her hand. Before he could speak, Jess threw a fleeting, half-hearted smile at him and slipped through his office door.

For the rest of the day, Kendall couldn’t concentrate. When Kerry had showed up to the office at noon, he hadn’t accomplished anything that he had set out to do that day. He couldn’t stop thinking of Jess—how she was doing. He wrestled with the idea of texting her, but as his thumbs hovered over the screen, he found that he didn’t quite know what to say. At six, he had Kerry get a car for him and told her to meet him at the Met at seven.

“320 East Forty-Second,” he ordered the driver.

As they sat on the FDR Drive in traffic, Kendall found himself drowning in his thoughts. He had no plan once he got there. What would he say to her? What would he do? Kendall couldn’t think.

He blinked in response to the driver announcing their arrival.

“Um—just circle for a minute,” Kendall leapt from the back seat and strode toward the entrance. After a moment’s hesitation, he approached the panel of door buzzers.

_Jordan #812_ , it read.

He pushed the old black button—and waited.

Jess was numb. She’d been numb for an hour—after the searing pain had worn down to an aching dullness. Her mother called her and all she remembered beyond her mother wailing – a sound that she’d never heard her make before – was the shock. Jess knew—she knew before she answered the phone. The feeling of dread had overtaken her earlier that day when she couldn’t get a hold of her brother.

She knew.

And her mother had been screaming to her, over the phone, from 3000 miles away. The details to Jess had been unclear; her mind had failed to process whatever words her mother could actually articulate. Jess knelt on her floor and tried to piece together what she should do next. Make plans to get out there. Plan a funeral.

But she had to stand first. She sat on her floor, unmoving, for two hours.

At six, the buzzer jolted her from her thoughts. It rang out twice before she could lift herself from the floor. Dazed, Jess pressed her thumb to the intercom.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Hey—Jess—it’s…me.” Kendall closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slightly. Great start.

“It’s Kendall.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but had to force the words out: “Wait—what—”

“—I’m – downstairs.”

There was silence, but the low hum of the intercom still lingered, signaling to Kendall that Jess was still listening.

“Can I—come up?” he asked.

There was no answer but the click of the door, and Kendall grabbed the handle and headed up to the eighth floor. He paused for a moment outside of her door and imagined that he felt her move within, just beyond him. It had been opened slightly for him, he noticed. Kendall stepped in and saw Jess at the far window of her studio, staring out into the cityscape. Twilight had started to come, painting oranges and blues across the glass plated skyscrapers. The white and red lights of the bustling city seemed to inexplicably trundle on below—even though her world had screeched to a devastating halt.

She didn’t turn to him. She didn’t make a sound—but he knew. Kendall tiptoed through the tiny entrance hall; he observed a small closet of a kitchen to his left, an Art Deco bathroom to his right, and before him, in a modest, pre-war studio apartment that was only just larger than his closet, was Jess, perched on her steam radiator. Her shoulders were slightly rounded, her gaze trained on the city.

Kendall took another soft step toward her and she turned. He held in a gasp as he surveyed her. Her mouth was contorted in a heavy grief and her eyes were reddened. She had been crying for hours.

“Jess…” was all he could say.

After a silent moment hung between them, she moved her lips, but Kendall strained to hear.

“I need to go home,” she finally whispered in a cracked, tired voice.

Kendall was frozen in place. He caught himself, as he noticed she was waiting for him to react, and nodded quickly.

“I’m so sorry—” she began.

“… _Why_? Why are you—”

“I’m going to miss work—China—”

“No—it’s—it’s—you have to go,” he said, “go home. Of course. Go home. I can get a jet for you—”

“I’m so sorry, Kendall,” Jess’s beautiful mouth contorted again. Kendall knew he would lose it if she started to sob there in front of him.

He advanced quickly to her and grasped her shoulders, guiding her to her feet. In spite of her small stature, Jess felt heavy in his grip, as if she would collapse at any moment. Kendall pulled her quickly into a tight embrace, which served to prop her up. As the grief threatened to swallow her whole, Jess wrapped her arms around his neck and buried herself into the curve of his collarbone and shoulder.

“You’ll go. Tonight,” he said, “I can do that.”

“No—please—”

“I insist. Really,” he pulled back for a moment, and she drew her head up to meet his gaze.

“Thank you—” she stopped herself, knowing that, in spite of all Kendall had done for her family, it still hadn’t been quite enough.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

She nodded, unable to speak, and replaced her head against his shoulder, renewing the hug, and Kendall obliged.

After a moment, she drew a deep breath, and, in a voice that tried to sound steady, she uttered, “So why did you come? Do you need—”

“No. I don’t need anything,” he said quickly, “I—”

It wasn’t the time. Not now.

“—I just wanted to check. On you.”

Jess broke the embrace. She turned from him and drew the backs of her hands across her cheeks in an attempt to sweep her face of grief.

“Just let me make a few calls—and it’s done.”

“Thank you,” Jess whispered again as she moved toward the stove, “do you want—tea?”

“No—no—I’ll just—” he indicated his phone.

She nodded as she put on a kettle for herself. As she tried to keep busy making her cup, she listened to Kendall on the phone behind her, barking orders to Kerry or Lance or—

“It’s done,” he said after ending the call, “Teterboro tonight—11 pm.”

“I’ve—I’ve got to pack—”

“I’ve got a car downstairs—ready,” he said, “but I have to get—shit, the time—"

“—to the charity thing at the Met,” she finished, “I know. go—Kerry’s probably already having a heart attack.”

“—Whatever else you need,” he said, “whatever it is. Let me know. Let Kerry know the details—we’ll send whatever it is you need.”

Jess pursed her lips to keep the tears inside and nodded.

The kettle began to whistle.

“All right,” Kendall checked his watch again; he’d be able to grab…an Uber...uptown?

“You should take the car. It makes more sense,” Jess said.

“No—he’s waiting for you. Downstairs—when you’re ready.”

He felt the words on the edge of his lips, but couldn’t move to say them. Kendall turned to go, but went back to Jess.

“Anything. Call me.”

She nodded. “Go.”

The elaborate flower arrangements from Waystar Royco flooded the small funeral home. The smell of lilies permeated the building, and Jess felt overwhelmed. Breaking from her mother’s side, she stepped outside to get air. Too many people had been talking to her, too many questions had to be answered, too many decisions had to be made. The activity had kept Jess busy and distracted for the better part of the week, but the people—the crying, grieving family members, the distraught high school friends whom she hadn’t seen in over five years, and struggling with the belief that the day she had dreaded for so long was now here—had been too much for Jess to bear.

The note sent with the flowers was boilerplate, but the fact that there were _two_ separate arrangements from Kendall and one arrangement solely from _Logan_ (of course he would never have even known—Joan was deft like that), made a difference to Jess. Kerry had kept in close contact with her over that week in spite of being on the scouting trip to China, so everyone at work knew about the memorial service arrangements. As instructed by Kendall, Kerry and Lance had a catered meal sent to the house the night before.

The email Jess had sent in between obtaining her brother’s death certificate and her first meeting with the funeral director was short. It was succinct and professional, much like her pitch to Kendall about Shanghai accommodations. And the response had been strikingly immediate:

_Of course you can stay in Santa Rosa. Please give your family my sympathies. We are flying back on Thursday. You can take leave, and your job will be waiting for you when you are ready to come back. You are missed._

_You are missed_. She read the words over again. 

_Who is doing the missing, Kendall?_ Jess wondered. _Flying back on Thursday_ —the day of the funeral. So that was it. Jess would stay in California, help her mother, and reconstruct herself. She set herself a timeline of six months.

She leaned against the brick veneer of the entrance to the funeral home in the California sun. It was threatening to be a hot day. Jess took a deep breath and went back inside, wondering if she ever could have done more—one last trip home might have made the difference.

The Unitarian Church of Santa Rosa was a midcentury structure with angular clerestory windows and maple beams across the ceiling. Jess focused on the knots in the beams as a way to get through the service. Jess’ mother, Sharon, was dressed in a Blue Fish navy tunic and matching leggings—Jess focused on the memory of when they had gone to a yoga retreat in Pennsylvania for the weekend when her mom had come to visit her and how she bought that outfit at a New Age boutique. When Sharon ran her fingers through her wavy white hair, the turquoise cuffs on her arm clinked together—Jess focused on the sound over what the minister was saying. She sat, shaking, trying to come to terms with what was happening. Next to her, her mother was strangely serene; she had meditated that morning at dawn. With a clink of her bracelets, Sharon reached over and laid her hand on top of Jess’s and squeezed.

As the service drew to a close, the small choir rose from their seats by the altar and congregated around the piano. Sharon had wanted to follow the casket out of the church, but Jess had protested. Any type of show would be too much, she thought, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it. But her mother was adamant, so Jess complied silently, as she dreaded processing out of the building like it were a performance. She slid large sunglasses on as she stood, hoping they would shield her from the pitying eyes around her, and watched as her aunt linked arms with her mother and guided her out. Focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other, Jess lagged behind a bit, happy to be alone, to not have to pretend to be strong.

But then, the choir started to sing. Sharon had worked with the minister to choose the music, and Jess was taken by surprise.

_When you try your best but you don't succeed_

She could start to feel herself tremble.

_When you get what you want but not what you need_

Her vision, already darkened by the glasses, now blurred; her mother had a strange song choice in this context. Jess gasped to hold herself together, keeping focused on getting down the aisle. She felt people reaching out to her, touching her arm in comfort, grasping her shoulder in solace—and she found herself hating it, recoiling. The last thing she wanted was to make a spectacle of herself, to explode in the middle of everything. The explosion would make all of it real. She gasped again, this time holding the back of her hand to her mouth to stopper the sobs. Jess bowed her head, and felt a hand brush her arm.

She had no idea when he had come in. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air, right next to her in that moment.

He wore his tailored Italian cut black suit and his Oliver Peeples sunglasses, which made him stand out amongst the local Northern California crowd. Jess’s heart fluttered to life as he nodded to her when she passed by him; feeling revived, she took her place next to her mother in the receiving line and dutifully accepted people’s condolences.

He waited in line, she noticed. She could feel him out of the corner of her eye, fixed on her through his dark glasses as he waited his turn. Kendall stepped in front of her and slipped his hand against her elbow, grasping it as he leaned in for a small, quick half hug.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered softly into her ear.

Jess was glad the glasses blocked her from meeting his eyes.

“Mom,” she said as she cleared her throat as her mother turned to them, “this is Kendall Roy.”

“My condolences, Ms. Jordan.”

Jess didn’t have the heart to tell him her mother’s last name was Anderson.

“Well, then,” Sharon accepted his hand, “thank you. And thank you for coming.”

Sharon glanced at Jess briefly before being called away by the funeral director.

“I—I can’t believe you came—you’re—you’re supposed to be over the Pacific right now,” Jess breathed, slipping her glasses back onto her head. She squinted slightly against the late morning sun.

“I got them to leave eight hours early and divert to Santa Rosa—I’m flying out in a bit,” Kendall explained, “it’s… good to see you.”

Jess managed a small, tired smile. “You too.”

An awkward pause grew between them.

Kendall held his breath for a moment—now was still not the time to say it. He wasn’t sure there would ever be a time to say it. Jess inhaled for the both of them.

“So—there’s a luncheon—at—”

“I’ve—I’ve got to go. We’re changing planes at SFO; I have to be back in Manhattan for a meeting tonight. Things are moving fast now. They want us set up in Shanghai by the end of next week.”

“Oh—oh, of course,” she smiled again, forced, “you’ve got a lot of traveling ahead of you.”

He nodded with an uneven rhythm.

“OK,” Kendall said in low voice; he had kept his sunglasses on, “OK.”

“Thank you for coming—I don’t know what to say. The flowers—the food…”

“Of course,” he replied, “I had to. Listen, I meant what I said—in the email, I mean.”

Jess nodded.

“You can come back whenever you’re ready.”

She nodded again.

Kendall stepped to go, and then turned back to her with a an ill-executed shuffle; tailored clothing could hide insecurity for only so long.

“I miss you.”

She froze, and watched him lean in quickly, awkwardly, pecking her on the cheek as he slipped his hand against the curve of her waist; he was taking in her scent to log the memory in his brain. But before he could change his mind, Kendall stepped away and jogged off to the waiting car.


	8. Chapter 8

Kendall thought he could take it. He thought that he could buckle in and focus on work. In a new position. On the other side of the world. Over six thousand miles away from the one person who kept his life together.   
The first few months in Shanghai were a tough transition. Before Jess had taken leave, she had set regular appointments for him with a personal addiction specialist and a therapist, and her plans had kept him together. He had assumed she would check in with him from time to time—she had always checked in on him--but there was no contact. Kendall would go through the ritual regularly: check the email, the messages, the second email, ask Kerry. He did this for the first few weeks, but soon realized it was useless.   
And Kerry was no fair replacement.   
The thing with Jess was that, even in the beginning of her employment, she was preternaturally good at anticipating him. She very quickly became in sync with his thoughts and needs. Every day at 8 am, she would assume his life, and then shed it at 6 that evening. Then it became 7. Then 8 pm…until she was texting him after hours to ensure his safety when no one else would.   
Then it was the desert.   
And now, his safety net had been swiped. Kendall found himself calling Kerry “Jess” in moments here and there throughout the day, which Kerry dutifully ignored. Jess’ image wound its way into his mind’s eye at night as he lay in bed alone; he would close his eyes and think of her until his body succumbed to sleep. While feeling particularly weak one day, he made the mistake of calling his father.   
“So—uh—I think—” Kendall stammered, “that maybe San Francisco could be a smart spot to—uh—set up a new shop. Close to Silicon—”  
“Ken—you’re not coming home until—"  
“—Close to Silicon Valley,” Kendall continued speaking in order to find momentum, “and we’d have a stronger Pacific Coast presence—closer to Asian markets—”  
“Where did this come from?” His father’s voice was eerily calm on the other end of the line.  
“I—I just think that it’s an untapped—”  
“And the private jet to California in April? What the hell was that for?”  
“Dad—I think we can afford—”  
“I don’t care what you do with mistresses or—”  
“Dad, it’s not—” Kendall’s cheeks reddened in spite of being alone.   
“—just don’t put it on the company dime! I’m tired of hearing chatter from our fucking accountants. You’ve already cost me a pretty penny this year.”  
“Dad, it was for a very important—" Kendall’s voice rose, girding himself for a trans-pacific fight.   
“--It’s about the principle, it’s about the money.”  
It wasn’t about the money.   
“Dad—”   
“—Fuck off.”   
Kendall set the phone down on his desk, pushing away the nagging feeling that he couldn’t shake: his father talked like a man in billions in debt for a billionaire.   
Shanghai was proving to be an insurmountable challenge—the culture shock, the language barriers, his cravings—why was he here? He felt isolated and overwhelmed, rudderless. He grabbed his phone again and scrolled through his messages. The last text he sent to Jess was about accommodations during the scouting trip three months ago. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing his mind to recall the memory of her removing her sunglasses after her brother’s memorial service, just to see her face again. His thumbs hovered over the screen of their text conversation. He had so much to tell her, so much he wanted her to know, but somehow, he couldn’t push himself to even shoot her a small-talk text. He didn’t want to do the work of reaching out, discussing difficult, messy things. He just wanted her to appear, to fall in step, to be with him. Instead of the conference call he was about to go on with seven people whose languages he did not speak, he wished he could be wrapped up in her arms on a couch on another fucking planet. 

Jess’ time spent in California was a welcome break. She helped her mother in the garden, she cooked dinner, she caught up on all the reading she had been meaning to do in New York. She wore jeans every day. Every now and then Kerry would text her, usually to clarify something or for a password. But never anything from Kendall. To be fair, she didn’t reach out either. What would be the reason? Every time she thought of him, she felt her brain tie itself in knots.   
“All right—there’s something going on,” her mother finally declared one morning over their muesli.   
“With what?” Jess focused on shoveling some food into her mouth.   
“With you—honey,” her mother reached across the table for her hand; Jess was always irritated how touchy-feely she always was, “you seem distracted. All the time. Usually you’re quite mindful, present—”  
“Mom—”  
“—Listen,” Sharon retracted her hand and sat back in her seat, “Aunt Rita mentioned that ATN has started running several stories about the opioid epidemic.”  
“You’ve been talking to Aunt Rita about cable news?” Jess asked quizzically, “how’d that go?”  
“She said she started to notice,” Sharon gave a sigh, “after Michael…”  
“Yeah, Mom,” Jess commented with a soaking bitterness in her voice, “it’s an epidemic—”  
“Yes,” her mother said slowly, patiently, “I know that. It just seems… sudden—according to her, that is. A departure from their usual schlock.”  
Jess shrugged. “He’s had some addiction issues himself—he probably thought it would be important to highlight.”  
Her mother took a beat to take the information in; everything was getting clearer.   
“I see.” Sharon scrapped her initial question, paused, and continued with a careful tone, “I know you were disappointed about China—”  
“Mom—”  
“But I think it’s probably for the best—”  
“Mom—”  
“That family is dangerous—”  
“You don’t understand—”  
“Oh, don’t I?” Sharon raised one eyebrow—an arched eyebrow that Jess had known all too well, “they aren’t singlehandedly responsible for the lies that pervade the media? I knew that when you took that job—”  
“Mom—”  
“—capitalist pigs—”  
“Mom—what do you really want to say?”  
“The way he looked at you Jess.”  
“What—what do you mean?”  
Sharon paused.   
“Oh my god, Mom, stop.”   
“I don’t want to say,” Sharon sighed again, “a cliché and hope that you take my maternal advice. But working for this family is enough—”  
“I’m not working for the family,” she persisted as she stabbed her spoon at the soggy muesli in her bowl, “I’m working for—”  
“Kendall Roy, then?” her mother finished.   
“Mom, it’s a job. A well-paying, solid job that might offer more opportunities—”  
“—at what cost?”  
“What are you insinuating?”  
“What does he expect in return?”  
“What are you—Mom,” Jess exhaled, exasperated, “He’s not like that.”  
“I’m only going to say this once,” Sharon’s voice was steady, firm, “but you need to tread carefully with this. Jess, if anything—”  
“I can handle it.”   
“Honey, you’re strong,” Sharon softened, “but this past year has not been easy.”  
“…I know,” Jess said, “which is why I’m here.”   
“But Jack—”  
“He reached out once, Mom, about Michael—”  
“He sent that fruit basket—”  
“Mom, we’re not getting back together.”  
Sharon paused and studied her daughter. “Then what is it that you want?”  
Jess was silent for a long moment, inhaling once before making up her mind. “I want to go to China.”

**

The decision to go to China was not hard, but leaving her mother was. But the past five months had been time together—time that they hadn’t spent in over ten years. It had been good to reconnect. Nevertheless, Sharon drove Jess to SFO at four a.m. on a chilly morning in October, and the hug lasted thirty seconds.   
Kerry had been in close contact, and, though she wouldn’t have wanted to admit it to anyone, was wholly relieved that Jess was coming to China. These past few months had not been easy to navigate. But according to Jess’ orders, she was to keep her arrival from Kendall completely—but she didn’t know why.   
Kerry had learned not to ask.   
It was a Tuesday when Jess had touched down at Pudong, and the air was thick. She felt a fluttering in her stomach that wouldn’t stop. The car ride over to the office—she was going straight to the office after a twelve-hour flight—seemed to last as long as the flight. She found it hard to swallow. Six months away from a person who had been her entire life for the better part of a year. What words were there to say upon reunion?   
Jess couldn’t think of any. No witticisms, no quips. Her eyes widened in general anxiety as she stared out the car window at the streets of Shanghai. She felt awkward and raw. Her stomach flipped.   
The elevator shot up the middle of the building at incredible speed. Jess felt that if it stopped suddenly, she’d be suspended in air for a moment.   
The lobby of the 68th floor was white marble. All white, smooth rock. Her heels made a strident sound across the floor as she walked, keeping her head held high, smoothing her hair, balancing her carry-on across her back with her roller trailing behind her; she started to plan her entrance. A dramatic return, filled with sweeping emotion and grandeur. A welcoming committee? Jess turned into the office suite at a clip and as she came around the corner, she slammed right into Kendall.  
He burst forth with a whispered, startled curse, but swiftly his anger turned to shock.  
“Hi…” Jess breathed with a short smile and a fleeting wince as her carry-on slumped off of her shoulder.   
Kendall blinked twice, his mouth agape; he recovered, using all of his faculties to keep his heart from leaping forth from his chest.   
“Jess!” Her name felt so good.  
“You said,” she began, straightening her back, “that my job would be ready for me when I returned?”  
Kendall nodded, threatening a smile.   
A deep pause. Kendall turned from wherever he had intended to go – he had forgotten at this point – and ushered her back to his office.   
“Of course,” he continued, scrounging together the ability to pretend to be normal, “of course. How is your family? Your mom?”  
“She’s…hanging in there,” Jess said, “how have you been?”  
The circles under his eyes seemed heavy.   
He settled on a response after a moment: “good… good. Busy.”  
“Of course,” Jess said, “where can I set up?”  
“Sure—Kerry?” Kendall called, and the assistant appeared in his doorway, “can we get Jess set up somewhere? Find a spot for her?”  
He glanced at Jess with an awkward smile and huffed a stilted laugh, “on the moon, maybe?”  
Jess pursed her lips to keep from laughing.  
“And get her bags delivered to—”  
“Yeah, just let me know where to send them,” Kerry cut in, obviously already embroiled in another task, and did not veil her annoyance at being interrupted. Jess followed Kerry to her new cubicle, which was within Kendall’s line of sight; he cleared his throat as she left.   
“We’re so glad you’re back,” Kerry mentioned as Jess got settled, “we’re…really glad you’re here.”  
Jess nodded slightly at her colleague, “it’s been tough?”  
“Yeah…yeah.”  
Jess nodded again, producing her laptop from her bag and powering it on. “Well, let’s right this ship, shall we?”

**  
After some convincing, Kendall got Jess to go out to dinner that night at Oha—an upscale fusion restaurant in the Former French Concession. Jess mentioned during dinner that she had obtained a rental not too far from there.   
“Oh—you should’ve reached out,” Kendall said in a tone that Jess perceived as being either slightly nervous or oddly aggressive, “there are a bunch of places where I am—West Nanjing… you should’ve reached out.”  
“I’m sorry—I didn’t—” She felt a twinge of guilt about not reaching out for all those months. Kendall seemed sad? Still nervous? She realized she was out of practice at reading him.   
“My place is big, too,” Kendall started to ramble, “so much space, actually—Rava was going to bring the kids out for Thanksgiving, but… that’s not happening… so I have a lot of space…”  
Jess nodded, “mmhmm.”  
“You could…er,” Kendall took a sip of sparkling water, “so where—where are you staying?”  
“On Damuqiao Road,” she answered, “nice setup, from the pictures, at least.”  
“Good, good,” Kendall commented as the small talk threatened to swallow him, “are—are you going home for Thanksgiving?”  
“My mother was never a fan,” she explained, “a colonizer holiday, she calls it.”  
“I see,” Kendall’s mouth twisted downward into a half smile, “so we can’t count on your mom as an ATN viewer, can we?”  
“No, but I guess ATN doesn’t really have a corner on the Northern California ex-hippie New Age Boomer demographic, do they?”   
“Not yet,” Kendall countered, “so she must have thoughts on you working for us, no?”  
Jess inhaled once, “well, yes.”  
Kendall waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he shifted in his chair uncomfortably.  
“She—she has her concerns,” Jess finished diplomatically, “but my Aunt Rita is a viewer.”  
“Is she?”  
“She mentioned… that ATN started running a lot of stories regarding the opioid epidemic?”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Pretty recently.”  
“Yeah…”  
“She said she found that interesting, given what our family has been through—the timing, that is.”  
“Right, right,” Kendall nodded, “I…had mentioned to Eva that it would be something that ATN may want to highlight since… it affects so many families.”  
Jess bit her lip and then took a sip of her drink. It was strong.   
“Listen, Jess,” he said, “I’m—I’m glad you’re back. It’s good to have you back in the fold. It hasn’t been easy out here. I—I realized how much …how much I…”  
“I’m glad to be back.” 

** 

Kendall had insisted on an eight-course tasting menu. Jess, who had never been one to turn down a chef-curated meal, had to admit that it had been the best food she’d ever had. And as they caught up, they could not help but smile. They could not help but feel at ease once again. They could not help but feel—  
“I’m exhausted—” Jess stifled a yawn, “I’ve been awake for more than a day—”  
“Sure—of course,” Kendall raised his hand for the check, “I believe I should have a car waiting—”  
“Yes,” Jess checked her phone, “he’s just outside. He’ll take you back—I’m not too far; I can walk.”  
“No, I’ll walk with you—” Kendall scribbled his signature on the bill, “I’ll see you to your door.”  
He cringed inwardly.   
Jess pursed her lips to keep from smiling. She decided Kendall’s low-key care-flirting could only be described as awkward Victorian-adjacent.   
“I’ve navigated some dark city streets in my time,” she countered carefully, “but I would appreciate the company.”  
There had been a cool rain that had swept in a cold front. The wind eased through the eaves and peaks of the buildings around them. It was late; the city was still humming around its corners, but Kendall and Jess walked quietly in step. She kept her eyes trained on her phone and the numbers on the buildings, and he kept stealing glances in her direction. The weight that he had borne on his chest for the past six months had been so easily lifted with her mere presence.   
“Here it is,” she declared with a hint of tired triumph in her voice, “thanks for walking me.”  
As if on cue, the SUV to whisk Kendall back to his penthouse came rolling down the street; Jess must’ve texted for it, he estimated. Her hand hovered over the keypad by the door, ready to punch in the code to get in and finally get to sleep. Kendall stood a few feet from her, on a lower step.   
“Hey Jess,” Kendall called to her as she eased the door open.  
“Yeah?” She glanced at him over her shoulder cordially, anticipating a question about tomorrow’s meeting schedule or something similar.   
“I know,” he started, stopped, and began again, “I know you didn’t have to come. I know—you probably would rather be in California—”  
“—No, Kendall,” Jess cut in softly and stepped down from the doorway to be level with his eyes. “I want to be here.”  
Jess waited a moment, as if she wanted to say more, but elected to stay silent. She uttered a quiet good night to him.   
Kendall watched her go inside and stayed there, standing on the sidewalk, for a few minutes, the SUV idling behind him patiently. He stood there, frozen in hazy contemplation.  
“Fuck,” he breathed after the silence, “fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” 

**

Jess woke early the next day, still jet lagged, and got to the office by seven. She began to boil water for Kendall’s cup of French Press. A nice surprise, she figured; Jess had made sure to send a new French Press to the office before her arrival. Kerry trotted in swiftly, producing a Chemex from the cabinet.   
Kerry grumbled under her breath, “took four fucking months for me to get this right.”  
“What—the coffee?”  
“Yeah—it’s…been a whole thing…” she said as she ground the beans, “was he always so particular?”  
“Not always,” Jess commented, “you’re making a cup for Kendall? I was—”  
“Oh yeah—he’s all about the Chemex these days. Do you think there’s enough water in the kettle for this cup?”  
“Oh--yeah,” Jess watched as Kerry retrieved a mug from the shelf, “I was actually going to make a cup for him, but—I guess I’ll make myself one.”  
In that moment Jess had to remind herself that she had been gone—completely removed—from Kendall for six months. Things of course would have changed, even if they were small changes, like coffee.   
For the rest of the day, Jess played catch up. And as she navigated the new office and its differences, Kendall had seemed to do a 180 in regard to his attitude; she was so sure he was fighting himself the night before not to grab onto her and draw her close, but now, this morning, he assumed a measured demeanor—a striking difference. And then, over the next few weeks, he grew distant.   
Maybe, Jess concluded, it was for the best. Her mother was right—as usual: to be deeply involved with a Roy—her boss, no less—would not only kill her professional reputation but possibly her personal one as well. Jess was the only one in this scenario who had anything to lose. Kendall, on the other hand, stood to lose nothing.   
But it was in this time—this period of awkward distance, in spite of feeling his gaze on her whenever she entered a room—that Jess found she could not stop thinking about him. Of course, Jess thought of Kendall during much of her day. Her entire job revolved around him and his wants and needs. But now, she found that she was thinking about him when she did not need to, she found that she was searching for him, checking to see if she could lock eyes with him—which happened often.   
But all the while she kept her face firm, wearing a mask of utmost professionalism; she had too much to lose. The tugging, deep inside, grew stronger. Still, she operated as if nothing were unusual.  
Did not miss one step.   
It was after weeks of distance, of short, clipped utilitarian conversations and exchanges, that Kendall appeared at her desk one Wednesday. It was late afternoon and a light fog began to roll into the city, enshrouding the building in a haze of mist. The lights below were diffused and murky.   
“Hey,” he started.  
Jess had her eyes trained on the screen before her, setting up a meeting for Friday with investors.   
“Hey,” she responded promptly.   
“So…tomorrow…”  
Jess stopped typing and looked up at him. His eyes were focused, and the shift was jarring; Kendall’s gaze bore into her; he stood there, looking at her, seeing her. He could only cover up his longing for so long—and he had reached his breaking point.   
“Tomorrow—” she quickly turned back to her screen and scanned the schedule for the next day, “—it’s—Thanksgiving—”  
“So—dinner? At 6, say?”  
“Oh—” she stammered a bit; Jess had initially made plans with Kerry and Lance to go experience Shanghai’s nightlife, to get super drunk and have fun in a city she had yet to truly explore.   
“If you can’t—”  
“No—no, I can.” Jess corrected quickly, but Kendall felt deflated for a moment. Perhaps his hunch was right—perhaps this was a major mistake.   
“OK—” he said anyway, “I’ll—I’ll see you then.”  
“What should I bring--?” She called to him as he turned to go.   
“Um—” he hesitated, and fell over some thoughts in his mind, “just—uh—just you.”


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Roy Thanksgiving.

A/N: I wrote and rewrote this chapter a few times. Still not pleased, but I decided to post. It's short, but it's lively...?

Jess sat in her apartment, wrestling with herself over when she should go over to Kendall’s. Be early? Late? Fashionably late? Exactly on time?   
She decided on exactly on time—punctual, professional. The conversation that night in the New York office over pizza repeated in her head: Kendall didn’t want it to be “fucking weird” between them.  
Too late. Far too late for that.   
Jess at least wanted to bring something so that she didn’t arrive empty handed; traditional Thanksgiving desserts were unsurprisingly hard to come by in Shanghai, so Jess settled on Angel’s Wings pastries—flaky and sugary. She’d been living on them regularly.   
The chefs were putting the finishing touches on the feast and the hors d’oeuvres were set out on the coffee table. He instructed candles to be lit and soft music to be played over the stereo sound system; he was unable to ascertain whether he was overdoing it or not. The conversation that night in the New York office over pizza repeated in his head: He didn’t want it to be “fucking weird” between them, but he couldn’t tell when it wasn’t fucking weird to begin with.   
The doorbell rang. He sprinted to the door and then took a moment to compose himself before opening it.   
“Hey,” he heard himself say.  
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Jess presented the dessert before him.   
“Thank you,” Kendall stepped aside and allowed her to enter.   
The penthouse, revealed to Jess at the end of a snaking hallway, was effortlessly chic—curated, of course, by a team of designers. A minimalist take on high-end penthouses. A lot of ecru. And slate.   
The view of the city was impressive, Jess noted. She commented on it, and Kendall shrugged as he handed off the dessert to a waiting attendant. He turned back to her, as she observed the view and surveyed her: a cream, low v-neck sweater and dark denim jeans that clung to her body in a way that made him jealous. Simple black ballet flats.   
“You want a drink?” he asked.  
“Sure.”  
“Perrier-Jouet?”   
“…Champagne…?”  
“For you—not for me,” Kendall admitted almost sheepishly, “I could get you something else—”  
“No, that’s fine,” Jess smiled as she watched Kendall retrieve a seemingly waiting flute of champagne from the bar cart. He poured a glass of sparkling water for himself. “I see that the servers and chef came on time--?”  
“Yes—thank you for setting that up,” he commented, gesturing to her to take a seat on the couch before them.   
Well, of course. Jess thought. She always set everything up for him.  
She sipped her champagne and felt awkward. Kendall cleared his throat and took a gulp of the mineral water. They sat for a moment, both wondering where to take the conversation. Jess was about to take comfort in the peripheral presence of the waitstaff, just in the kitchen, quietly bustling to put the finishing touches on the meal, but as she looked for them, they filed out the door. Done for the night.  
They were alone.   
As Kendall had instructed, the food had been laid out on the vast kitchen island. Jess took a gulp of champagne.   
“You hungry?” He asked her in a quiet voice.   
She nodded with a quick assertion, but without responding.   
The opulence of the feast was a stark reminder to Jess that, despite their intimacy, she and Kendall were operating on different planes of reality. This meal was not folksy. It was not traditional—her traditional, at least. Definitely no potluck vibes. They sat down at the large table perpendicular to each other and began to eat in silence. The number of meals that they had shared was somewhere in the hundreds. But this one was entirely silent, with each of them wondering what the other was thinking. Equally nervous. Equally unsure. Equally in the dark.   
Yet there they sat, shoveling food into their mouths, not looking at each other. Where was the ease of the desert? The effortlessness? All but gone.   
When Jess could eat no more, she pushed the leftover food around on her plate. Kendall watched her for a moment. A scary thought passed into his mind. And then another. If anyone else had been having the same thoughts, they would classify them as lovely, welcome, enticing, even. But to Kendall, they were frightening.   
He blinked once. She’d called his name.   
“Do you want to go out on the balcony?” She asked, seemingly for the second time.   
“Of—of course.”   
Jess grabbed her drink as a safety blanket and followed Kendall outside. The evening was cool, and brisk breezes blew across the city. The moon was high in the sky, indicating to Jess that it was already late in the evening. The night had been so awkward—but where had the time gone?  
She gulped some more champagne. Jess felt Kendall inch closer to her. And then again. And again—until his elbow grazed hers.   
She glanced down furtively and up again, locking eyes with him.   
“Thank you—for coming, I mean,” he uttered softly, meeting her gaze.   
“Of course—Thanksgiving is—”  
“No,” a sheepish, tired smile passed over his lips, “no—to China.”  
He paused, still locked in her gaze, elbow grazed.   
Jess blinked once, and then nodded quickly, dutifully. “Of course.”  
Another pause. Much longer this time. Kendall struggled for words.   
He gripped the railing, held his breath, and shook his head as he formulated coherent thoughts.   
“Listen,” he finally burst forth, “I honestly—I can’t—”  
He stuttered, and stumbled, running in circles next to her. Jess watched him flounder, but she laid her hand on the curve of his jaw, her thumb ultimately resting against his stubbled cheek.   
Her touch sucked the air and sense of out him, and Kendall dove into her lips hungrily. And for a split second, his doubt had gotten the best of him; he had never been sure of her feelings, only his own. Could she just be the complying powerless employee? He pulled back an inch—just to check for some indicator of certainty, yet again.   
Meanwhile Jess slid one hand around Kendall’s back, pressing her fingertips into him, urging them closer together so that their bodies were aligned. With the other hand, she deftly laid the champagne flute on a nearby end table. She locked eyes with him again, nodded without a sound, and pushed her lips into his. The kiss itself lasted only seconds before Kendall heard Rava’s voice in his head; he figured he was truly and finally losing it.   
Except it wasn’t in his head. It was in the penthouse.   
“Hey? Ken…?” She called as the kids burst in, flooding the living room with noise and luggage.   
Jess reeled back from Kendall like an opposing magnet, stumbling into the end table. The champagne flute crashed to the ground.   
“Oh—God—” Kendall reacted to Jess, but then reused them for his estranged wife, “Oh—God—Rava…you’re…”  
“Here? Yeah,” she finished smoothly as she stepped out onto the balcony, “we thought we’d surprise you—and—oh, it looks like we did.”  
Rava pursed her lips as she watched Jess straighten herself and emerge from the shadow she’d retreated into.  
“Hey—Jess,” she uttered in a low voice.   
“Hi.”  
“I—did give a heads up to Kerry that I was thinking of bringing the kids as a surprise—” Rava glanced back and forth between the two, reading their faces adeptly, “I would’ve contacted you, Jess, but I…didn’t know you were… in China.”  
Kendall jumped in, “ah, yes,” he clapped his hands together while he thought of something to say, “Jess joined us here just a few weeks ago.”  
“Two months ago,” Jess corrected in a soft voice.  
“Two months ago—right.” Kendall blinked a few times.  
A beat.   
“Daddy!” Sophie rushed at him, throwing her arms around his waist.   
Kendall gave her a quick hug and ushered her back inside to where Iverson was kneeling by the coffee table, setting up his Lego. Rava and Jess observed Kendall and the kids for a moment—in a heavy silence.   
“Well, I—I should get going—” Jess swallowed, but her voice was still raspy.   
“It was good to see you—” Rava began, but Kendall jolted up as Jess moved to the door.   
“—No, you don’t have to go—” he found the words tumbling forth and was powerless to stop them.   
Jess managed a planned smile and a deep exhale: “It’s Thanksgiving –and it’s your family –and—”  
Kendall waited for her to finish, but she said nothing. Instead, her eyes grew sad.   
“Good night,” she said with another smile, this one forced, “Good night, Rava.”   
Rava cocked her head to the side, knowingly, “Good night.”  
And before Kendall could figure out how to beg Jess to stay, she was gone. The door clicked and, as the kids played in the living room, oblivious, Rava approached Kendall in the hallway. She stood behind him at a distance.   
“The assistant? Really, Ken?” He felt her cross her arms at him, “you’re a walking cliché.”  
And, as usual, Rava was right.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wraps up the pre-show era and leaps to riiiiight before S1e1

A/N: Thank you all for your support and feedback. I am so, so pleased that you like this story. I still have some brushing up to do, but I thought I'd get this chapter out. I am currently rewatching the series, so more chapters to come. (Future chapters will be aligned with the first two seasons--sort of behind the scenes/fill in the blanks things with K & J.)

When Jess appeared in front of him in his office that next Monday morning, Kendall was almost relieved; she hadn’t reached out in over four days, and the mortification he endured from her silence nearly killed him. He’d been busy with his family for the weekend, specifically dealing with how _right_ Rava was about the mess he’d created for himself. She’d told him the glimpse of what she saw on the balcony was “a long time coming” – whatever that meant. But deep down, subconsciously, Kendall knew. He knew from the first moment he’d seen Jess when she walked in for her second-round interview. Of course, he failed to even remember what they spoke about. 

Jess’ usual even countenance was burdened by a furrowed brow, and he watched her with a tinge of horror as she steeled herself into speaking.

“It’s best,” she started in a small voice, “to put aside…what happened…”

Kendall’s face fell. His chest felt heavy with a seeping humiliation.

“…and it’s prudent to…move forward within an entirely professional context,” Jess continued, realizing she needed to brush up on her PR crisis communications, “and overcome …previous… unsustainable ventures.”

Kendall, in fear of his soul leaving his body, immediately concurred, in a hearty, overly enthusiastic tone.

“I get that,” he trained his eyes on her forehead to avoid direct eye contact, “I wholly agree.”

Jess breathed in once, inadvertently revealing surprise, but went on with the improv exercise between the two of them, “It’s not the …optimal road to go down.”

“Totally,” Kendall nodded, tamping down the scream inside of him, but he knew she was right. He sat upright in his chair, as if a rod had replaced his spine. He pretended to be a robot. He waited, with his heartbeat in his ears, for Jess to tender her resignation.

“But that won’t change anything here,” she said, trying to find a firm tone of voice.

“Of course,” Kendall was confused, but what else was new?

He laid his hands on the desktop ledger and tapped his fingers to give himself something to do. He couldn’t contain the overflow—it was always impossible to do so in front of Jess. Kendall quivered, in spite of himself. _They had been here so many times before._

Kendall had promised it wouldn’t be weird.

It got weird. Really fucking weird.

That night on the couch.

The fumbled kiss attempt during their hike in the desert.

He called her his _wife_ at the bar in L.A.

The kiss on her bruised knee in the back of the SUV—what type of ridiculous shit was that?

He bought her pizza and thought she’d bend to his whims to move around the world.

Upon a lightning quick assessment, Kendall had fucked things up beyond his most outlandish imagination.

Jess moved to go, and he watched her struggle with herself and turn back to him, her mood having shifted. This was it.

“You know we can’t do this—” her words seemed harried, uncontrolled. Kendall was in shock at the height of her emotion, “you’re—married—”

“—Separated—” He protested in a feeble voice.

“You have kids to—” _Can’t argue with fucking up their childhoods._

“Jess—”

“You’re in recovery,” she said with finality, in the quietest of voices, the words still coming at a manic, clipped pace, “and I just—I _just_ want you to stay safe. Above everything else. God knows I don’t want to find you on your bathroom floor again--”

Jess inhaled in disbelief that she’d finally said it. Kendall sat frozen in front of her. His mouth ajar, he attempted in vain to absorb all that her words meant. His lips moved to formulate a question, but he gave up. She had seen so much more than he knew; she’d saved his life.

“You’re right,” he was barely audible, staring straight beyond her shoulder, “you’re right.”

_Why could you ever believe you were worthy of her?_

“Hey,” she said, jolting his gaze back to her. Kendall looked worried; what else was she going to lay on him? Jess took three careful steps over to his side of the desk.

“No, no,” he protested softly, wincing from the pain inside of his chest, “please don’t come close to me.”

Jess lightly ignored him, and she took his hand in hers; he felt the warmth from her palm against his and felt weak. Kendall stared at the curve of her knuckles as she spoke.

“You’re safe with me,” she chose her words prudently, “and I’m not going anywhere.”

Kendall laid his head back against the tufted leather Eames chair and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

 _Fuck,_ He said, but couldn’t tell if it was aloud.

Kendall opened his eyes, relinquished his hand from hers, and stood as he straightened his suit jacket. “I mean, yeah,” he said with a bitterness Jess had not anticipated, “sure.”

“I—” Jess tried, but he stopped her.

“Listen,” he said, “I’ve been—wanting—waiting to say something for months now.”

“Kendall—it’s better if—”

“Wait, wait,” he held up his hands to her, “you’re right. You’re right about everything. You, at every turn in this clusterfuck—” _choice of words, Kendall, choice of words_ “—have been the adult. And we should proceed as you’ve suggested.”

Jess gave him a short, jerky nod as she searched his face for the core of his words.

“—But I—I have to be honest with you,” he continued; they were closer now, “you’re the best person I know—”

“Kendall, please—” Jess winced.

“I’m fucking serious,” he said, “and I don’t want to take that for granted. You know me. You’re the person I’ve spent the most time with for the past two years of my life. And you’re right—like I said, you’re right—but it’s too late for not making it weird. It’s too late for not fucking everything up. But before we enter some sort of monkish period of medieval asceticism where we wear hairshirts and engage in self-flagellation while we work together—”

“—that’s dramatic—”

“—I want to say that I…” Kendall paused; he was at the precipice of ultimate intimacy. He looked over into the abyss and stepped back.

Too scary.

“I…” he repeated, “care.”

Jess waited for more. When there was none, she nodded, pursing her lips as the corners of her mouth threatened to turn upward. The message was clear, even if the delivery was not.

“I know what you mean,” she said simply, “me too.”

He took her hand and looked down; Kendall squeezed for a moment. This time Jess was the first to let go. He relished the feel of Jess’ fingertips sliding against his skin as she began to release her hand from his grip. But in a moment, Kendall pulled her into a clumsy half embrace. She slung her arm around his neck without hesitation and returned the hug. They held each other for a brief moment before Jess stepped out.

Kendall watched her go back to her desk; she would go through that same motion—going from his office to her desk—exactly 2,540 times before they would leave Shanghai.

And another 7,830 times over the next couple of years at Waystar Royco in Manhattan. He would watch her each time, fighting the memory of the kiss, fighting off all the memories, really. Day after day, she would dutifully complete her tasks with precision—and without judgment. Jess had grown to be an extension of Kendall, silently supporting, compensating, and maintaining. She had learned to absorb information about him from context clues and silent looks; the deep, extended conversations began to ebb. Jess had all of the background intel she had needed; the time in the desert, the time in Shanghai, the intimate moments they shared with each other (when he haphazardly brushed his lips against her knee in forgiveness, _good god_ , she had almost forgotten), the late nights--all informed every decision she made in her day-to-day duties.

Had it not been for those moments, which seemed so incredibly illicit when they would burst forth from her memory into her mind’s eye while she sat at her desk (could they have truly been wrapped up in each other on that couch? Was that real?), Jess knew she wouldn’t be able to do her job half as well as she did.

And she took a quiet pride in it. In the years after Shanghai, she kept track of his sobriety as much as his business. Three years and counting now—and back in New York, as strong as ever. And she was a part of it. She was able to keep him on the right path while simultaneously swallowing her emotions whole; sometimes they went down easy, but usually they got stuck in her throat. Even so, gone were the uncertainties, the late-night check ins—and they both seemed so far from that moment she found him alone and unconscious on his bathroom floor. There was a light at the end of the dark tunnel, and Jess finally allowed herself a sense of relief, if not longing, for what could have been. She knew when he attended meetings, when he would see his therapist, and when he would meet with his sponsor. If they couldn’t be together, they could at least have this, this quiet stability. Meanwhile, she started to go out with Lance and Kerry. Sometimes Tony would join. Usually happy hours, but sometimes clubs—and Tony always seemed to know the hottest secret house parties. Jess began to carve a life for herself—one that included Kendall but was not dominated by him. And as long as she kept him sober, she figured, she could keep it that way…

For Kendall, Jess was the glass he had broken in case of emergency, and she had rescued him. He felt secure for the first time in his life. He fought, every day, to keep from begging her, from kissing her, from tearing at her clothes helplessly, but he felt safe. Every time he watched her go from his office, he’d repeat to himself:

“Don’t fuck this up.”

But, of course, that would be against his nature, he surmised. He had already destroyed his own marriage; why would a relationship with Jess be any different? Same Kendall, different day. He had to keep himself from her in order _to_ keep her…?

He rose from his chair as he watched the clock to strike nine. Nearly eighteen months after that night they shared that three-second kiss, but …

Kendall regularly thought of Jess, and he didn’t know why. She would merely appear in his head—and rarely left. He was busy thinking of her as he strode down the hall to the conference room. Fiona was there, waiting by the door.

“He’s all set,” she murmured, grabbing the handle and allowing him to step in. Kendall nodded curtly as he adjusted the lapel of his bespoke suit.

_Let the succession commence_ , he thought.

It was very unofficially official: Kendall was the heir apparent to the Waystar Royco empire. The Crown Prince, the Golden Child. The news, of course, was known only to the tightest of circles. When Kendall had alerted Jess of the news, she felt nervous—sad, even. She could feel things changing and not for the better.

Jess had zero idea why Joan had contacted her for a meeting with Logan. At first, she responded with open times in Kendall’s schedule.

“No,” Joan’s voice was maternally dismissive over the phone. Jess glanced across the room. She could see the older woman tapping her pen on the desk in impatience. That was always a benefit _and_ a downside to open office structure: you peer across the space to _see_ the visual subtext from a coworker. “Your schedule. Mr. Roy wants to speak with _you._ ”

“…Excuse me?”

“In anticipation of the younger Mr. Roy’s …promotion…” Joan’s hesitation displayed her mixed feelings, “Mr. Roy thought it prudent to speak to you.”

The meeting, which was at 9:30 the next morning, was mercifully short. Jess timed herself so that she was exactly one minute early. Choosing to wear her new suit—the one with the pencil skirt—with a sloping silk blouse and her black Manolos, Jess knew she looked professional, put together, but also really, really good. Against her better judgment, she added a hint of eyeshadow. Jess knew what world she was navigating, and she was ready to play the game. She’d been practicing for years.

“I know that you’ve been looking after Kendall,” Logan was blunt, but there was a subtext that Jess immediately picked up. “In Los Angeles, in Shanghai…”

He didn’t look up at her. Instead, he scanned the headlines on a morning edition of the _New York Globe_ in front of him.

She didn’t immediately respond. Someone had noticed some of her extra work. And it was Logan. Jess struggled to keep her eyes from widening at the realization, almost embarrassed. Her handling of Kendall, she _assumed_ , had been kept secret. She wondered: did he notice the intended, on-paper duties of her position? Or just the fact that she was keeping his heir on the straight and narrow?

“You’ve done a fine job,” Logan declared, still reading, “and you’ll get a raise for continuing to do so over the next few months as we prepare him for the …transition.”

Jess gave him a small nod, noting the grimace Logan gave to her with the last word.

“ It hinges on this acquisition he’s making,” he continued, “this, this… website? Vaulter?”

“Yes, sir.” _Multiplatform digital enterprise, but website, sure._

“He’s not easy,” Logan shifted in his chair and brought his attention up to her. He cleared his throat, “but he’s got potential…This transition is not a guarantee with him. And that stays between us.”

Kendall’s father spoke of him as one would a wayward teenager, not a 39-year-old Vice President of a Fortune 500 Company.

“OK?” Logan tilted his chin downward and peered at Jess over his reading glasses.

“Yes, sir,” she replied immediately, in a low voice.

“All right, then,” he said, and went back to reading.

This signaled to Jess that the meeting was over.

It wasn’t quite what she expected, but it was confirmed that she was now officially Kendall’s nanny? And this transition, which Kendall thought was the surest thing, was actually a test? She couldn’t help but be stung by how this macro narrative was shaping up: woman of color holds hand of privileged white male in order for him to not screw up his capitalist nepotic birthright.

She rose from the Le Courbusier chair, uttered a quiet “thank you,” and stepped out. This transition, she predicted, would be an absolute, unmitigated shitshow. She emerged from the meeting with more articulated loathing for Logan Roy than she ever had—not based on any one word he had relayed to her, but merely on a gut feeling, or perhaps a tiny voice inside of her head. She also emerged from the meeting with more loyalty for Kendall than he deserved, but Jess was certain that sentiment came from deep within her chest. Yet there was a new sensation brewing inside of her as well, one that belonged completely to her: ambition.


End file.
